


That Girl Is Poison

by PsychoCalixteLove



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Beca POV, Clubbing, Consent is Sexy, EVERYONE - Freeform, Everyone's gay, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Haddaway, Jesse's an Ass, Luisa POV, Luisa is Overprotective, Murder Mystery, POV First Person, PTSD, Secrets, Stacie POV, like literally - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-05 03:12:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 49,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11569113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychoCalixteLove/pseuds/PsychoCalixteLove
Summary: To Beca Mitchell, Stacie Conrad and Aubrey Conrad have a perfect life. Married, a Forever Home, and a child on the way. She wishes she had the same thing with the one person who would truly understand her. That is until she sees how one can be torn apart by that person. When Aubrey is murdered, Beca finds herself caught in the middle of the case while she is trying to console the heart shattered Stacie, balance her feelings for the lead detective, Luisa Meyer, and make sense of what she saw when Aubrey died. Old secrets arise when the case delves further into the personal lives of those involved, and makes Beca question if a happily ever after is possible.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea for this while I was riding on a train that was suspended due to police activity. This is the result of that fateful day.
> 
> The name at the top of each chapter indicates whose perspective the chapter is in.

**Beca**

 

“Hey, Aubrey!” I had just walked out of my apartment building, and to the dark blue Acura that was waiting for me across the parking lot. I opened the door and hopped in beside my friend Aubrey, who gave me a cheery, “Hey Beca!” She switched the gear to reverse and pulled out of the space she was in before shifting to drive and heading out of the parking lot. “I got you your favorite caramel macchiato while I was at that coffee shop not too far from here,” Aubrey said, cautiously handing me a cup of Starbucks. “Thanks, Bree. So, what’s the venue again?” I asked, completely confused as to where we were going. Apparently, she was throwing a business party to celebrate their new operating budget of fifty-million dollars and wanted me to be the DJ since I had gotten the title of, “Best DJ in Atlanta”. I took a sip of the hot coffee and looked at her, eyes focused on the road as if she could only concentrate on one thing at a time. My question must have knocked her out of her focal point because she shook her head and glanced back at me, eyebrows pulled together in frustration.

“I’m sorry, Beca. What did you ask?” Aubrey turned her head back toward the road, pursing her lips in confusion. I stared at her for a while, noting the little changes in her behavior as we kept driving, and sipped my coffee again. She was acting differently than normal like something was wrong and she hadn’t told me about it. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, her hands on the wheel were shaky, and she gripped the wheel tightly enough to turn her knuckles white. She occasionally took deep breaths like she was dying for air, and coughed a few times like she was having difficulty swallowing her own saliva. “Are you alright, Aubrey?” I pondered, looking concerned. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just have this really bad headache I can’t seem to get rid of.” She wiped her forehead, breathing deeply once again, and while I doubted she was totally healthy, I trusted that she would pull over if things got serious enough. I sat back in my seat, sipped again on my coffee, and repeated, “What’s the venue you’re having your party at?” I waited for her to respond, but all she did was squint her eyes more at the road. I could see the gears turning in her mind as she tried to register what I asked her, but she never did answer my question.

Figuring she would just get us there and explain later, I turned my head to look out of the window and continued to drink my coffee. I huffed out a breath when I realized how quiet it was in the car, and thought of what I needed to do when I got home. The first being work on that mix I’m debuting at the nightclub in a few weeks, the bass line needs to be adjusted or the song needs to be changed because it’s just not fitting the way I want it to. The second would be to see if I have any other gigs because I need to arrange my schedule based off of them. I noticed the car was going faster by the way the objects outside my window were passing by me at an increasing rate. I didn’t think much of it until I glanced out the front window and saw the red light flash on the traffic stop. “Aubrey, you might want to slow down,” I pointed out, not turning away from the red light. When she didn’t slow down, I got louder, “Aubrey! Slow the hell d—” I turned to her, only to find her slack against the steering wheel, eyes half-opened and her lips a pale blue. I tried to shake her, “Aubrey! Aubrey!” She didn’t wake up, and I looked up in time to see another car coming toward us at nearly 60 mph. “Aubrey!” I screamed as the other car crashed into the side of us, sending us spinning in the opposite direction.

My head was smashed against my window, and I clung desperately to the seat and door to give me some stability. We spun around nearly four times, glass shards and pieces of metal flying everywhere. The whole time I was jerked around, forward, backward, and side to side, the seat belt not doing much to stop my movement. I was half-paying attention, half about to pass out from shock and nausea. My eyes were wide open, seeing everything in slow motion. Aubrey barely moved, but her head hit the steering wheel a few times, which I thought was going to leave a mark. Ironically, the coffee barely spilled in its place between our seats, and I envied the foundation which held the coffee still. How could I be flying all around this car while the fucking coffee is perfectly alright? I’m the one wearing the seatbelt here. The rapid thrashing of the vehicle tore my grip from its place, and I eventually let go, protecting my face and head with my forearms. My head flung to the side, and I hit my head on the car door, causing my hearing to go out. Finally, the spinning stopped, but my head was still going around in circles. I was delirious for a few seconds before I gained enough energy to focus on something other than violent movements.

I squinted my eyes, but when that hurt, I blinked a few times instead, feeling around for something to ground me. I didn’t know I was screaming until I stopped and my throat felt like I had just drunk fire and I clawed at my neck in pain. I breathed a few times, then looked to Aubrey, who was thrown back in her seat, hands by her sides. I assumed the jolts of the car made her lose her grip, and luckily for her, her seatbelt held her back in the seat. I tried to speak to her but all I heard was white noise. “Aubrey! Wake up! Aubrey!” I screamed, not being able to hear myself. I reached over, shook her, and her head rolled over to face me. I jumped back in horror as I saw Aubrey’s bloodied and bruised face, blood gushing from the wound she had across the top left of her forehead. “Aubrey! Aubrey!” I shouted, almost knowing what happened to her. I was about to get her out of the seat belt when mine was undone from behind me, and I was pulled out of my door by someone with strong arms. They pulled me out into the intersection a few feet, and let go of me, telling me, “Stay here. I’m going to get your friend.” My head still was in a daze, my pulse like a jackhammer, and I seemed to be sweating despite the cool temperatures.

I could feel myself about to faint or black out, so I warily made my way to the ground, wanting to avoid actually falling. I sat down, and took off my jacket, bundling it up into a pillow like thing. I set it on the ground, and laid down with my head on my jacket, focusing only on the gray sky above. “This is unseasonable weather for September in Atlanta,” I thought, breathing deeply to calm myself down. I somehow willed away my future blackout with my steady breathing and use of distraction. The person who pulled me from the accident came back with Aubrey and set her down next to me. I distinguished the person to be a man with short brown hair and accompanying brown eyes, who was fairly tall but couldn’t be more than Aubrey’s height. I winced as he bent down on one knee and asked me, “Hey, are you alright?” He must’ve understood that my head hurt so he asked again in a whisper, “Are you alright?” I quickly took stock of my bodily functions, noting my pulse had slowed and so had my breathing. I lifted my hands to my face, wiggling my fingers in front of my eyes to check they still worked. I lowered my hands, and told him, “Yeah, I  guess. Thanks for that.” I made an attempt to get up, but I pushed my hand down onto glass shards.

He gasped, and offered his hand to help me up as he responded, “No problem.” I took his hand and pulled all I could, but he pulled me up most of the way. By this time, the ambulances and police officers arrived, taping off the area with the classic highlighter yellow police tape which read, “Police Line Do Not Cross.” The sirens were loud and annoying but drew my attention so I guessed they worked. I looked at them and then looked back to Aubrey, who was in a small pool of her own blood. I knew immediately that she was dead. There was no way someone could bleed that much from their head and not die. Not to mention I barely heard her breathing the entire car ride, besides the times she sucked it in as if she was dying. Something inside me was screaming for me to cry because Aubrey had died, but something else prevented me to actually cry. I felt immense sadness then, something close to my typical depression, but it was all related to her death. I realized then that this is what grief was, and I had to remind myself that this was a normal reaction to someone’s passing. But I couldn’t help thinking that I didn’t deserve to live.

I didn’t have anything waiting for me at home, didn’t have  _ anyone _ to care about me. Just myself. Aubrey had everything I truly wanted, but may never truly get because I refuse to open up to anyone. It was hard enough opening up to Aubrey, and the few other friends I had, but letting someone I could potentially love in my mind was too much for me to handle. Aubrey had a perfect life. She had a loving wife, Stacie, who would do anything for her. She had a forever home with Stacie, and she even had her first child on the way. I almost completely forgot about her blossoming business that was on its way to being a Fortune 500 company. Her life was my ideal image for living a full and content life, but the only problems I found with it was that she had to be willing to let people in and the fact that her life was over now. That’s what scares me the most. Letting people in. I’m afraid that if I let even just one person in, I’ll end up getting disappointed like I was when my parents divorced a little over a decade ago. I’m nearly thirty years old, and I still haven’t had any sort of relationship in my life.

“Excuse me? Can you tell me what your name is?” a paramedic was speaking to me. I was sitting on the edge of an ambulance getting checked out by a paramedic. I apparently had walked over here after I got over my wave of nostalgia and guilt. My hand had been bandaged, and I was wrapped in a warm blanket. I looked up to the woman helping me out, and told her, “My name is Beca Mitchell.” The woman nodded, “That’s great, Miss Mitchell. Do you remember what happened to you?” I breathed out, “Yeah. I was in a car accident with my friend Aubrey.”

“What’s her full name? Your friend?”

“Aubrey Conrad. She has a wife, Stacie.”

“Great. You seem fine, you don’t have any major injuries to your head or any other major body part. You’re free to stay here to calm down or go over and talk to the Sergeant since you’re the only one that’s conscious.” I nodded to them, removed the blanket from my shoulders, and got up to talk to the Sergeant, who was standing a few feet from Aubrey’s totaled car. This person was tall, almost six feet, and had their long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. They wore faded blue jeans with a blue t-shirt and a black leather jacket. They were examining the various parts of the car, jotting down whatever they could on a tiny notepad with a pen they spawned from their jacket. I walked up to their side, and they didn’t even look at me while they wrote a few other things down and said, “This is a restricted area. Only police officers, paramedics, and victims or witnesses are allowed here.” I turned to them and realized they were female. The woman continued to write as if she hadn’t said anything to me, and I noticed how the crisp gray sky in the distance outlined her profile perfectly. Everything from the easy definitions of her cheekbones to the gentle curve of her nose, to the soft arches of her lips.

I stopped to take in every aspect of this woman that I could, holding my breath as my eyes wandered the expanses of flawless skin. Her eyes reflected the laser focus she had on her paper, her blue irises fluctuating with every passing thought. Her sculpted eyebrows moved slightly as she thought of what to write down, and her tongue peeked out from her lips to help with the indecision. She blew out a long breath, glancing around, and she saw me still standing next to her. Only this time I was gawking at her with my mouth hanging open and I wasn’t breathing. She closed her notepad, clicked her pen closed, shoved them both into a pocket in her jacket, and turned to me with her hands on her hips. “Is there a reason you’re still here?” she asked, clearly displeased with my presence. She had an obvious German accent and looked me in the eyes, an annoyed look taking over her proportionate features. When I didn’t respond, she stepped closer to me, angled her head down more to keep eye contact, and pushed my mouth closed with her hand as she told me, “If you are not supposed to be here, go away.” I snapped back to reality when her fingertips remained on my chin and sucked in a breath.

“I-I was actually told to talk to you. You’re the Sergeant, right?” I said, trying to breathe normally. She took her hand away from my face, ran it over her own face, and dropped it at her side. “Yes, I’m Sergeant Luisa Meyer. And who are you?” Without thinking, I blurted out, “Someone who wants to be beneath you.” I cringed once I heard myself, but then tried again, “Sorry. I’m—”

“Look, I get it, but I’m trying to do my job here, so unless you want to get arrested for sexual harassment, I suggest you not bother me.” Get it? Get what? What’s there to get again? Besides maybe getting her clothes off, but I don’t think that’s what she meant. I really wanted to say something intelligible, but instead said, “I think you should be arrested.” She’s really had enough of my blabbering because she glanced at the handcuffs on her belt. “For what exactly?” she wondered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Disturbing the peace . . . in my pants. Damn it!”

“Alright. I’ve had enough of this!” She turned me around, placed my hands behind my back, and started to handcuff me when a tall, dark haired guy came up to us, yelling, “Luisa! What are you doing handcuffing our witness?”

“She repeatedly harassed me, Pieter,” Luisa explained, tightening the cuffs.

“I’m sorry. It’s just you’re really hot, and I’m really gay . . . What is wrong with me?” I attempted to solve.

“See? She said ‘Sorry’. Let her go, Luisa,” Pieter pleaded. Luisa shot him a death look, and fished the keys from her pocket, unlocking my wrists from the metal chains.

“Fine. But the next time she does it, you can explain why our witness is in prison.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the chapters are pretty long. I just write and don't realize how long I make them until I finish.

**Stacie**

 

“Mrs. Conrad?” I opened the door to find a police officer dressed in blue skinny jeans, a royal blue t-shirt, and a black leather jacket standing at my doorstep with apprehension. I knew by the solemn look on the officer’s face that she was gone. Somehow, someway. She was gone. I probably won’t see her again, but at least my last words to her were, “I love you,” with a kiss. I nodded my head and allowed the officer in, sitting on the couch in attention. “Please, sit down,” I offered, motioning toward the empty loveseat across from me. She slowly sat down, seemingly somewhat uncomfortable with how she fits into the room. It became obvious to me that she wasn’t used to being in a room with big enough furniture as she looked around the room in slight confusion. That confusion reminded me of Aubrey when she felt a bit out of place since everything was so big. I still remember the look on her face when we first walked into this house. It was all awestruck and wide-eyed like a child in a large candy shop. We knew as soon as we walked in here that this had to be ours. Ours, for our future family, and for somewhere to call home.

“I’m Sergeant Luisa Meyer, and you must be Stacie, I presume,” the officer stated, glancing at a notepad in her hand. She looked to me, opened her mouth to say something, but closed it almost immediately like she decided that wasn’t what she wanted to say. “Is this about Aubrey? Because I know she was supposed to be back hours ago,” I asked, my voice kind of faltering at the sound of her name. In the back of my mind, I knew this was all about Aubrey, but I simply refused to believe it. “Yes, this is about your wife,” Sergeant Meyer clarified, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. My wife.  _ My wife. _ The person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. The (other) mother of the child I was carrying. The love of my life. I unconsciously placed my hand on my stomach for some comfort as I forced out, “W-What h-happened to her?” I avoided eye contact, preparing myself for the worst news possible. The tears at the back of my eyes threatened to spill over the edge of my eyes as my thoughts raced for a possible answer to my own question. I took a deep breath to try and calm myself for the news. “She was in a fatal car accident. Not much more information has been gathered beside that.” The Sergeant remained silent for me while I gathered the information for processing.

I repeated the sentence in my mind. “She was in a  _ fatal _ car accident.”  _ Fatal _ . She was dead. She died. In a car accident. The realization hit me all at once, and I couldn’t hold back my emotions anymore. The first, of course, was sadness and grief. I buried my face in my hands and lamented into them like they were a pillow I could scream in without disturbing anyone. Tears wouldn’t stop coming, and as a new wave of tears flooded my face, another whimper of pain escaped my throat. My breath shuddered as I struggled to breathe, gasping air in and choppily pushing air out. After a few minutes, I stopped crying enough to ask, “What other information is there?” I forced myself to look at the Sergeant in the eyes, holding back the memories of Aubrey’s own sparkling blue eyes. My hands were balled into each other, my fingers intertwined to prevent me from digging my nails into my palms. She seemed to understand my grief on a personal basis from just the way she looked at me, and she answered, “Your friend, Beca Mitchell, was in the accident as well, but she survived with minor injuries.” Beca was in the car with Aubrey? So she knew what happened to Aubrey. Why was she with Aubrey in the first place? Aubrey was meeting with a client for lunch, but I highly doubted Beca was a client of hers.

Neither one of them would go behind my back, would they? No, Aubrey loved me, she would never do that. Beca, I’m not so sure about. She hasn’t been with anyone since college, but does that mean she would lie to me and sleep with my wife? Possibly. No, stop Stacie. Neither one of them did anything. They’d never lie to you, never. So stop being paranoid. I mentally shook myself out of my thoughts, breaking eye contact with Sergeant Meyer. I looked back down to the floor and breathed deeply a few times before I stared back at Sergeant Meyer. “Did she have anything to say about . . . A-Aubrey?” I choked out and reeled on my wife’s name. I didn’t know how much such little words could hurt until now. Now, when the word  _ accident _ cost me my everything. Now, when  _ death _ was the reality I was living. Now, when  _ forever _ was a lie. Now, when I hated saying  _ Aubrey _ because it would only remind me that she’s gone and that this child now only has me to rely on for the everything she gave me. All my purpose, all my love, all my everything. All of it . . . gone. My heart was shattered. Cracked. Ripped out. Torn to bits in front of me. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“She told me to tell you, and I quote, ‘Stacie, I know it may seem hard to concentrate right now, but you need to stay strong for her . . . ‘“ Sergeant Meyer started, reading from a notepad. The rest of her words were drowned out by my tears and the rage which was slowly rising in me. So many questions came with my newfound rage, and I didn’t know how to answer them. I didn’t think I’d ever know the answers. How could Beca survive when my wife didn’t? Why was she the one to survive? What will I do now? How can I live with the constant reminder that Aubrey’s dead and I will never see her again? I found the thoughts to be unfair to so many, especially Beca, but I couldn’t help thinking them. I wanted Aubrey here with me, I couldn’t bear to live without her. While I probably wouldn’t feel any better if Beca were dead, I at least knew I had someone I loved to lean on for support. Beca was alright for listening, but when it came to relationships, she was oblivious. She wouldn’t understand what I was talking about. I know she wanted a relationship to fill the empty spaces her music couldn’t, but she let her fears of heartbreak get in the way.

I didn’t blame her because this heart-wrenching feeling was killing me. I wouldn’t wish this feeling on even my worst enemy. Sergeant Meyer just finished her speech that I didn’t pay attention to when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She glanced at her phone, and said, “Sorry, I need to take this.” She got up, and walked into the kitchen, answering, “Hallo, Pieter.” I could only hear her side of the conversation, but she had to repeat a lot of what the person on the other line was saying because he apparently was speaking in rapid German. “Hold on, slow down. What do you mean?” She started to pace, her footfalls echoing off the walls in the nearly empty house. “The collision didn’t kill her? What do you mean ‘Cause of death was Asphyxiation’? That doesn’t make sense.” I listened intently, trying to pick up key details. “Okay, Pieter. Pieter! Listen to me. Order a Tox screening immediately. I’ll get there as soon as I can. Alright! Jesus Christ! This isn’t the first murder in Atlanta! Okay, bye.” She walked back in the living room, knowing I had heard her, and motioned for me to follow her. I got up quickly, wiped my eyes, and slipped on my Vans before grabbing my keys, and purse. I locked the door behind us, forgetting to turn off the couple lights I had on.

In the car, Sergeant Meyer drove pretty impatiently, and she seemed pretty upset at what she was told. I was going to ask what was going on until she spoke up, “Would you like to know what that phone call was about? Because being the spouse, you have the right to know.” I shifted my focus from the streets passing by through my window to Sergeant Meyer and nodded, “Yes, if you wouldn’t mind.” She heaved out a breath quietly, and dispelled, “After your wife had been examined by our Medical Examiner, she determined the cause of Aubrey’s passing wasn’t the car crash. It was Asphyxiation, and we don’t know yet what triggered the asphyxiation, but we do know that this wasn’t an accident,” I was dumbstruck from the implied word  _ murder _ . She was murdered? Who would want to  _ intentionally _ hurt Aubrey? If the thought of Aubrey gone was heart-wrenching, then the thought of her being taken forcefully was liable to kill me. I must’ve started crying again because Sergeant Meyer reached over into the glove compartment and pulled out a small package of tissues. She held them out to me, and I took them with a whisper, “Thank you. You don’t know how much that helps.” I thought I could hear her murmur, “Trust me, I’ve been through similar.” I looked over and she looked like she hadn’t said anything.

We pulled into the police station and parked immediately due to reserved parking. We climbed out, I brought the tissues with me and headed for the door. Sergeant Meyer graciously held the door open to me, then stepped in herself when I was walking down the hall. She caught up in no time and began directing me toward the area she needed me. We passed the reception easily, and she used her hand on my shoulder to guide me through the office to the Medical Examiner’s room. She stepped away from me and stood on the other side of the table with someone who looked like a doctor. “This will be hard, but we need you to make an ID to confirm it’s her,” Sergeant Meyer explained, sliding her hands into her pockets. I nodded and braced myself for terror. The doctor folded the paper blanket back to reveal Aubrey’s face and shoulders before stepping back to his place next to Sergeant. I forced my head to turn to look at the body lying on the cold metal table, tears already forming in my eyes. I blinked away the tears for a second long enough to take in Aubrey’s stolid face that was tinged a blue, and her lips that were almost entirely blue. I covered my mouth with my hand, and quietly sobbed into it. My eyes were pouring tears again, and I clutched the railing so I didn’t fall from shock.

Sergeant Meyer came up behind me, knowing the body was, in fact, Aubrey, and she actually meant to take me from the room, but I turned around and buried my face in her shoulder. I wrapped my arms around her neck, pulling her toward me and into a hug. I know I surprised her, but she hugged me back around the waist once she knew what I was doing. I realized it was completely unprofessional, but I  _ desperately _ needed someone to lean on, even if they were only there to solve this mystery. My grief and misery were already crippling me, and I could feel my legs wobble every time I moved. She held me gently, though I’m sure she felt a bit awkward, and lightly patted my back. She was warm and comforting, despite her being almost all muscle. I cried into her shoulder for another minute before I composed myself enough to pull away from her and stand on my own. She cautiously removed her hands from my waist, and nodded respectfully, grabbing my hand to lead me back outside. She had a firm grip, but it wasn’t crushing as much as it was reassuring. She really had been through something like this before and knew how to soothe someone in pain. No matter if the action was pushing boundaries a bit. She pulled me toward her office, opened the door, and pointed to her chair on one side of the desk. “Sit there, and take some time to process this. It’s a lot, I know. There’s some chocolate in the upper right-hand drawer of my desk if you think that would help. I have to go do a few other things, but when you’re ready, let me know because I do have a few questions for you,” she said encouragingly.

I stepped into the room and she closed the door behind me, giving me one last calm look before the door shut completely. I sat at her desk, breathing deeply, and caught her scent from the area. It was just as soothing as her hug was, the cinnamon and vanilla relaxing me with every breath. I opened the drawer to my right, and sure enough, the entire drawer was dedicated to various chocolates, ranging from Toblerone to Hershey. I picked one of the fun size Crunch bars as they were always my favorite, and I ate it calmly. I breathed a few more times, wiped my eyes, and got up, walking out of her office in some semblance of confidence. Sergeant Meyer glanced up from the file she was reading, and noticed me, closing the file. She put it down on the desk she was sitting at and stood up. She gestured for me to follow her, and I went after her to one of the interrogation rooms. I sat down in the chair she told me to sit in, and she stood across the table from me, hands on the chair in front of her. She stared at me for a while, and finally said, “I’m going to make this as easy as possible for the both of us.” She spoke softly as if to try and not make me cry. I nodded, telling her to go on. “Would you have any reason to murder your wife?” she asked, apprehensive of what my reaction would be.

Of course, I felt a surge of anger rush through me, but I did my best to stay calm as I gritted through clenched teeth, “No. I don’t. What would even make you think that I would kill my wife?” Sergeant Meyer saw my reactions but had to do her job, so she took the file from the other officer who walked in. The other officer was taller than her with dark hair, and light eyes like her, but he seemed to be a bit more rigid than she was. He sat down next to the chair Sergeant was standing at, and looked at me. Sergeant Meyer opened the file, removed a photo from the folder, and slid it toward me. “This is a picture of your wife’s shirt from the accident,” she pointed out, indicating a certain area of the photo. The photo was of Aubrey’s neck, and on her collar was a smeared lipstick stain in a light pink shade I would never wear. I picked the photo up, examined it closely, and suddenly realized what she wanted me to understand. She saw the light bulb click in my brain, and asked, “Do you think your wife was having an affair?” I was mortified. I knew Aubrey wouldn’t cheat on me, but there was the evidence of it right in front of me. I stood up violently, chucking the photo halfway across the room, and screamed, “No! Aubrey would never cheat on me!” I was just about to blow my top when Sergeant Meyer said, “I’m not saying she did. We’re trying to find all possible options, Mrs. Conrad. And more often than not, it involves a cheating spouse.”

Angry tears began streaming down my face, and I lost it. “Are trying to say I did this?! My wife is dead, and you’re trying to blame me for it?! No! She wasn’t having an affair! And no, I didn’t kill her!” I ranted, grabbing my stomach and wiping my eyes with my hand. I backed up against the wall, and slid down it into a balled position, wailing helplessly into my hands. Sergeant Meyer walked over to me, crouched in front of me, and carefully placed her hand on my knee. “Listen, I’m not trying to blame you for anything. I just don’t know much right now, and I really need your help to find a starting place for me to investigate,” she cooed, her voice calm and relaxing. I looked up at her from my stomach, and mustered through my tears, “St-Start with . . . um  . . . The Ritz, I think it’s called. She . . . She was there today.” Sergeant Meyer nodded her head and helped me up, offering me support. She turned toward the officer at the table and told him, “Pieter, get a warrant to investigate the security tapes of The Ritz from downtown ASAP. And push Aksel to get the Tox screening done faster. I’m going to take her home, and then go home myself. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Pieter nodded, “Yes, sir.” She waved as we left the room and the police station. I was quiet the whole ride home, and it took all my effort to just get out of the car.

I made my way to the front door reluctantly, knowing no one would be there to greet me. Sergeant Meyer didn’t leave until she saw me enter my house and shut the door behind me. I went straight to bed, turning off the lights I forgot to turn off a few hours ago. I stripped my shirt and pants, crying the whole time. I laid down on my side of the bed, and unconsciously reached across the sheets, hoping this was just a dream and that Aubrey was laying there waiting for me. When my hand only found more cold sheets, my heart was stabbed again. I squeezed my eyes shut, tears ripping themselves out of my body. I grabbed one of Aubrey’s pillows, and held it close to my chest, taking in her deep scent of her. I rubbed my somewhat pronounced baby bump and constantly thought. What are we going to do without her? I don’t know if I can do this alone. Why did she have to be taken from me? What are we going to become? Will I ever be able to recover from this?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this one is shorter. And I'm posting this early because I won't be near my laptop at my typical update time tomorrow.
> 
> Also, sorry if this one is a bit boring. It had to be written though.

**Luisa**

 

The warrant for the security tapes at the Ritz came a few days later. We were lucky enough to even get the warrant, and the issuing judge made it clear that we barely had enough evidence to even pursue the case. As far as I was concerned, one sliver of evidence is enough to pursue, especially in these types of cases. Murder cases to be specific. I knew first hand how much one of these cases could hurt someone, even the detectives investigating. Not many people realized how traumatizing this job can be. Not just for the families of the victims, or the victims if they survived, but also for us. Almost on a daily basis, bloody crime scene, domestic violence, or the bloody crime scene because of domestic violence. The repeated exposure to trauma really did something to the faint hearted cops. Even I faced my own struggles with this particular profession, though nothing compared to the horrified or emotionally broken expressions that haunted me for days afterward. I still couldn’t remove the image of Stacie Conrad’s emotional character from my mind. The crushed look she gave me every time she even said her wife’s name like she was shot every time she thought about her wife being gone.

The way she seemed to crack again when she looked me in the eyes. I didn’t think I’d ever see someone so broken they reminded me of me. She was so torn down that I was surprised she could have some form of control over herself. The shock people went through when they learn of a lover’s, sibling’s, or parent’s death was a marvel. Different people handled it in different ways, and Mrs. Conrad was possibly one of the best I’ve seen. While she was only crying her eyes out on the outside, I knew she was internally tearing herself to shreds. She glanced at me once after finding out the news and knew that I understood what it was like to be in her situation. Maybe not one hundred percent the same, but similar enough to establish an unspoken pact of support. Which is why she hugged me. I hugged her back because she needed someone, and the one person she would normally turn to was lying on the table, dead. I actually felt pity for her. She had no one else to turn to in that situation, and she chose me to lean on. I knew it may have seemed like I had an attraction to her, and Pieter thought so, but I guaranteed him that I was only helping her out. It annoyed me sometimes how much he wanted to meddle in my love life.

I pondered over his antics as I walked into my office and set my bags down near my desk. I didn’t get to flip through an entire file before Pieter walked in, not even knocking, “How many times must I tell you?! Knock first so you don’t scare the shit out of me!” I yelled, slamming a folder down on my desk. He raised his hands like he was being arrested, and answered, “Sorry, sir. I just came to tell you the Tox screening came back.”

“Really? You still could’ve knocked.” I gave him a face of mock astonishment, then walked to him, snatching the paper he held in his hand. I ran my hand through my hair as I sighed loudly. I scanned the page for what I was looking for and finally came across the results:  _ Arsenic - Positive. _ Aubrey died of arsenic poisoning. According to the symptoms I knew, people who had arsenic poisoning had difficulty swallowing and produced excess saliva. Aubrey could’ve had both and died because she couldn’t breathe. She had choked on her own saliva. That is on the top twenty list of ways I don’t want to die. Getting shot in the groin being the first. “Just fucking peachy. Get in contact with Mrs. Conrad and let her know we’ve figured out what caused her wife’s death. I’m on my way to The Ritz to see if I can get any information from the security tapes,” I ordered, grabbing my purse and sliding my aviator sunglasses back on.

Pieter saluted me off, “Yes, sir. And if she wants to talk to you?” I stopped on my way out of my office, looked at him, and hung my mouth open for a while before telling him, “Give her my cell. Tell her to call me when she wants to.” He nodded his head, and I continued on my way out of the station. I didn’t get one step out of the building before reporters flooded me with questions. The case has only been open for three days, we barely know anything yet, and all the news stations are trying to get all they can out of us. “Do you have any speculations to who the murderer is? Are there any clear motives yet? Do you believe Stacie Conrad killed her wife?” I tried my best to ignore their questions until the last one when I stopped abruptly, pushed my glasses to the top of my head, and answered sternly, “There’s not enough evidence to speculate anything yet. As far as motive goes, the best answer we can come up with right now is money, power, or even jealousy. Thank you, and good day!” I pushed through the crowd and made haste to get to my car. I hurried and got in my car, slamming the door. I threw my purse in the passenger seat next to me, started my car, and buckled my seat belt. I pulled out of the parking lot, pushed my aviators back down so they functioned correctly, and made my way downtown. I drove for about fifteen minutes before I came to rest at my destination.

The Ritz was somewhat elegant but wasn’t so fancy as to wear gowns to. A nice dress would work. I shut my car door and scrutinized the building from across the street. I made sure there were no cars coming in either direction, crossed the street, and removed my sunglasses, placing them in my suit jacket pocket. I walked into the building, which reflected the outdoor design and greeted the hostess with my badge, “Hi. I’m Sergeant Luisa Meyer. I was wondering if you could tell me where you store your security footage. I have a warrant for the tapes from a few days ago.” She said, “Yes, of course,” and punched in a number on the phone at her station before continuing to the person on the line, “Yes. The Sergeant is here with a warrant for the security footage. Alright, Paul. Okay, bye.” She placed the phone back on the receiver and turned back to me. “Our head of security will be right with you. If you could take a seat,” she explained. I said thanks and sat down calmly on of the leather seats, crossing my ankle over my other leg. I didn’t have to wait too long before my phone rang. I pulled it out my cell phone, glanced at the caller ID that read, “Conrad Stacie,” and answered. “Hallo. Sergeant Meyer speaking.” There wasn’t any response, so I tried again, “Sergeant Meyer.” Small whimpers came through, and I knew Stacie had a few questions. After a few seconds, she asked, “What do you mean ‘arsenic poisoning’?” I sighed, and told her, “Her Tox screening came back, and she tested positive for arsenic. With the cause of her passing being asphyxiation, the symptoms for arsenic can cause asphyxiation.”

I chose my words carefully because she was already in enough pain. She didn’t need to be hearing the words, “dead, death, kill, murder, or even homicide,” on top of the pain of grieving. “O-Okay. That’s all I needed to know, thanks,” she said, and then hung up. I turned my phone off, and slipped it in my pocket as a man in an officer-like uniform came up to me. “Sergeant Meyer?” he griped, annoyed with my job. I stood, and he changed his posture when I towered over him. I followed him to the security office at the back of the building, having to dodge waiters and waitresses with hot plates. I handed him the warrant and he pointed to the office chair in front of a few monitors. I sat down in the chair, realized it was way too small for me, and stood back up, deciding to just bend over. He sat in the chair and moved to be next to me after he read the warrant and its contents. I plugged in the flash drive I brought with me into the USB port and began scouring through the files that were saved. I scrolled down to the date I needed, September 18, and since I didn’t know what time Aubrey was here, I saved the entire day’s worth of footage. Man, was I in for some hardcore binge watching. Twelve hours of footage on three different cameras, yay. Well, this was what I had Pieter for.

I checked the contents of the flash drive to make sure I had the files I needed, then took it from its port, and slid it into my jacket pocket. “Thanks. I hope I don’t see you again,” I insulted, and walked out of the building before he could comprehend what I said. I got back to the station faster than I anticipated, and Pieter waved to me as I went to my office. “Hey, Pieter! I’m sending you two of the videos from the restaurant for you to watch. It would make a lovely rom-com for you and Aksel to watch together.” I told him, using sarcasm to lighten the mood. It worked because he laughed, and flung a pen at me. He missed, but he exclaimed, “I’m sure he would find security footage very sexy!” I laughed, knowing Aksel most likely would find them sexy, in a weird and kinky kind of way. Thinking of Aksel and Pieter, I realized how many people involved in this case were gay. From the tiny maus who happened to be our only witness now, to the victim herself and everyone in between, including me. I marveled at how that worked out as I placed my purse down near my desk, and booted up my laptop, plugging in my flash drive. I quickly sent two of the videos to Pieter, and then started watching the third. I paused the video after about an hour and went to look through the blinds that were in my office windows. I peeked through, and upon seeing no one in need of me, I sat back at my desk. I opened my drawer full of chocolate, mostly dark chocolate, and searched for the one I wanted. Feeling I needed something special, I pulled out a Moser Roth German Dark Chocolate bar.

I didn’t wait to tear it open and nearly swallow it whole. It didn’t take long for me to eat the entire bar, but long enough for it to melt onto my fingers and lightly coat my lips. I played the video again and started to lick my fingers off only to be interrupted by Pieter barging in. I stopped dead in my tracks, my thumb slowly sliding out of my chocolate covered mouth. He took one look at me, and said, “Moser Roth. Am I right?” I finished cleaning my thumb tip and licked my lips, snickering, “Don’t judge because you can’t get any. And don’t think about it, this drawer is almost always locked.” I raised my eyebrows to see if he would test me, but he just sat in a chair across from me. Wise decision, Krämer. “Anyway, I may have found a suspect,” he confessed, sliding me a screenshot from one of the videos. I was surprised at how fast he found this, but he explained to me that he narrowed the time he watched because she couldn’t have been at the restaurant after one o’clock, approximately when she died, and she couldn’t have been there before eleven in the morning since the restaurant didn’t open until eleven. I sometimes underestimated the deductive reasoning he possessed. This was one of those times.

The screenshot was of Aubrey sitting at a table across from someone with a hair color something other than, black, brown, or blonde. I was skeptical to assume anything because it was in black and white, which made it difficult to depict any useful information. I set the photo down after analyzing it enough and told Pieter, “Get a better view of this person, then run the image through facial recognition. If that turns up anything, let me know. We need to see if this person knows anything about Aubrey before the accident. Pieter nodded, took the photo, then walked toward the door. Before he was completely gone from view, he chuckled, “By the way, I know your desk doesn’t lock.”

“If I find anything missing, I’m suspending you for a week.”

“All that, over chocolate?”

“Just, don’t mess with my chocolate. Is that too much to ask?”

********

A few hours later, Pieter brought back a file with a person’s records in it. I opened it and was shocked by the picture paper clipped to the information. I briefly ran over the papers before closing the folder. “Let’s go talk to her,” I ordered, grabbing my purse and heading for the door. Pieter followed me, grabbing his own keys and coat.

********

“Ms. Beale?” I asked, knocking on the wooden door. The ginger looked up from the papers on her desk, and said, “Yes. May I help you?” The shocking blue eyes that nearly pierced me glared at us in confusion. “I hope so. My name’s Sergeant Luisa Meyer, and this is Detective Pieter Krämer. We just have a few questions for you.” She stood up, walked toward us, arms crossed across her chest, and inquired, “Is this about Aubrey?”

“Yes, in fact. It is.”

“It’s tragic what happened to her. And then to hear she was m-murdered? I couldn’t stand the thought.” She started tearing up, but oddly, I didn’t have the same level of pity for her that I did for Stacie.

“So you two knew each other?”

“We were best friends in college, and I was even the Best Woman at her wedding. So yes, I guess you could say we knew each other.”

“Well, it has come to our attention that you were with her before she died. Care to explain what that was about?”

“Oh, we were just catching up. Our crazy schedules made it difficult to communicate. Even through text.”

“Did she seem a bit off or abnormal to you? Like was there anything medically out of reason?”

“No. She seemed fairly normal, actually.”

“Was she going anywhere else after that?”

“She told me she was going to get coffee, but I don’t know where.”

“Okay, thank you. You were very helpful, Ms. Beale.”

“I was glad to help. If you need anything else, you know where to find me.” She winked at me before went back and sat her desk. Pieter and I left the school kind of disappointed. We still didn’t know who to have as a suspect, besides Stacie. Since she was our only suspect, I decided to look more into it. “Pieter. Get a search warrant for Mrs. Conrad’s house.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Few things:
> 
> Updates will be less frequent than I would like in the upcoming week due to my crazy schedule. (Sorry)
> 
> One question: Who do you think murdered Aubrey?

**Luisa**

 

_ To:  _ [ _ meyer-luisa@gmail.com _ ](mailto:meyer_luisa@gmail.com)

_ From: Unknown Number _

_ Subject: _

_ Sergeant Meyer, _

_ You might want to look into this. _

_ YourRealSuspect.jpg _

_ YourRealSuspect.pdf _

 

I opened the email, curious as to what the attachments were. When I clicked on the PDF file, I was stunned to find a person’s file. Well, it was more like a criminal record, but that wasn’t relevant. I quickly read over the paragraph, skimming over unnecessary information. I got about halfway through the paper when I found something useful:  _ Bumper Allen went into debt after a legal dispute with the company Posen & Swanson and declared bankruptcy soon afterward. _ I thought for a minute and realized that the company Posen & Swanson was Aubrey’s office. I quickly opened the other file that was attached and gaped at a man with short brown hair, and brown eyes. He didn’t look too happy and honestly looked annoyed. I combed back through the accompanying information and found that he worked as a chef at none other than The Ritz. He had to have access to Aubrey’s food if he was working that day. I needed to look more into it before I made any assumptions, but he had a clear motive and way to poison Aubrey. Revenge for putting him in debt is enough to kill someone, at least for me. Not that I would want to kill anyone.

I was about to forward the email to Pieter, but then I noticed who it was from.  _ Unknown Number _ ? I get the idea of anonymous tips, but how would someone get access to this information if they weren’t from the FBI or a police officer. One of my detectives would’ve either printed it out and left it on my desk, or emailed it to me straight forward. So, why use a blocked number? I immediately thought that Aubrey’s killer sent this, but then I realized that when one is on the run, they wouldn’t get in touch with the person trying to find them. While I didn’t entirely dismiss the theory, I found it highly improbable. I’ll have Pieter track the number to the person’s phone, then we can speak to this anonymous tipper. For now, I needed to get to The Ritz and find this Bumper Allen. If he isn’t there, then I’ll check the address given. I twirled my keys on my finger as I walked out of my office. “Verdammt!” I yelled. I forgot to forward the email to Pieter, and went back to do so. Pieter caught my swear word, chastising, “Put a dollar in the swear jar! You may be my boss, but that doesn’t excuse you from profanity.” I narrowed my eyes at him, scolding him through my half-closed eyes. “Shut up. Now. Check your email. There’s an email I want you to track while I’m following up on a lead.”

“You found something? What is it?”

“I’ll let you know if I get anything. For now, track that email, and I’ll see you later. By the way, if we had a swear jar, you’d be broke.” I exited the building with a laugh and drove quickly to The Ritz. I walked in and was met with the same hostess from yesterday. She seemed to half expect me to whip out a search warrant because she started to reach for the phone, but I stopped her. “I’m here because I need to talk to your chef, Bumper Allen. Do you know if he is working today?” I questioned, reading the name off of my notepad. I needed to get a new one, but that could wait. “I’m not sure. You can go check though. If he isn’t, then you can check his apartment,” she responded, motioning toward the kitchen in the back corner. I nodded my thanks and strolled to the kitchen. I pushed through the double metal doors and looked around for anyone fitting the image I was given. I had to look passed a steam cloud from a fresh pot of lobsters to find the person I was looking for. I walked to a place across from him and checked that it was him from the image on my phone.

Knowing it was him, I pulled out my badge, flashed it to him, and asked, “You Bumper Allen?” The guy glanced at me, then used tongs to lift a cooked lobster from the boiling water to an awaiting strainer to drain the water from the shellfish. “Yes, and who might you be?” he challenged, raising his eyebrows in indignation. “Sergeant Luisa Meyer of the Atlanta PD, and if you don’t drop the attitude, I’ll arrest you on probable cause for murder,” I stated, stepping closer to him. He nearly dropped the plate he just prepared at the sound of  _ murder _ , but he huffed out a breath and handed the plate to another chef. “Alright. Let me just, Alice, can you handle this while I’m gone?” he said to the person next to him. The woman nodded and went back to chopping vegetables while Bumper took off his apron. He hung it up and beckoned for me to follow him. When we were in a storage closet of some sort, I didn’t wait to start questioning. “Were you working Sunday?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Now, how I see it, there are two ways this can go. You can either tell me who poisoned Aubrey Conrad, or I can arrest you right now.”

“Wait a second. I was working that day, but I had the dinner rush, which is from four to closing. So if anyone poisoned Aubrey, it couldn’t have been me.”

“I’ll need to check with your boss on that, but for now, I have no other questions. You’re free to go Mr. Allen, but don’t think we won’t keep a close eye on you.”

“Okay, I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“Thank you.” He left in a rush, but that had to do with the backed up orders, so I made my way back to my car empty handed. As soon as I started driving, my phone rang. Pieter was calling me, probably about that email. “Hallo?”

“Luisa, I got a hit on that email you forwarded me.” As I thought.

“Alright. So what’s the address?”

“It’s not an address, it’s an alley. It’s the alley between the Starbucks and Pizza Hut that’s just down the street from The Ritz, assuming that’s where you were.”

“Right, thanks, Pieter. When I get back to the station, we need to check on the status of that search warrant.”

“Oh, I have it with me. We got it an hour ago.”

“You didn’t bother to tell me that? Anyway, I have to go. I’m at the Starbucks. Want anything?”

“No thanks. I’m not big on coffee. See you when you get back.”

“See you.” I hopped out of my car and spotted the alley Pieter was talking about. I walked to its edge, breathed in the musky scent of dirt and whiskey, and hurried into it. I searched around for a phone looking device and noticed a dimly illuminated screen a few feet in front of me. I stepped toward it, crouched down to get a better look, but saw the screen was cracked. The person who had it must have thrown it in here because otherwise, the screen wouldn’t be cracked. I picked it up, examining it thoroughly, and stood back up with the device in my hand. I was pissed that it was a prepaid, but at the very least we could try and find out where it came from. With this in mind, I headed back to the station, drinking the coffee I picked up. I wasn’t there for more than five minutes before I was driving to Stacie Conrad’s house with a search warrant and a team of specialists. We arrived, and I went to the front door, ringing the doorbell grudgingly.

From inside, there was a groan followed by a loud, “Damn it!” and something falling. The door was answered not too long after that, and I adjusted my posture to seem more professional. Stacie was in shambles. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot from crying and lack of sleep, and she obviously hadn’t been taking too good care of herself because the house was somewhat messy. Someone must have been by to do some cleaning as the entire house wasn’t in too bad of a shape. Stacie’s hair was messed up, and she was wearing sweatpants with a loose boyfriend shirt. I could still see her small baby bump through the shirt, but it made me wonder what would happen to the unborn child. I knew she was grieving, but she still had a moral obligation as the mother to take care of him or her, even without Aubrey to help. I sighed as I handed her the slip of paper, explaining, “We have a search warrant to search your house. I’m sorry, but we have no other option.” Stacie understood, and let us in, trying her best to not cry in front of so many people. I began to direct the team to specific rooms to search and ended with me and Pieter. “You and I are going to search their room for any evidence at all. Anything at this point will help,” I told him, pulling rubber gloves onto my hands.

“Stacie, if you wouldn’t mind, come with us,” I ordered her, starting up the stairs to their bedroom. I opened the door slowly, taking in the master bedroom piece by piece. I took steps one at a time, feeling I was invading Stacie’s personal life. I made it to the center of the room and looked around before turning to Pieter. “You check the bed and under it, and I’ll check the closet.” He nodded, and started on his knees, rummaging through the various objects underneath the mattress. I found the closet, slid open the door, and flipped the light switch. Immediately, I took note of the shelf above my head, and first browsed the other racks of clothes. I started with Aubrey’s clothes, which reminded me of mine due to the number of blazers and pant suits. I couldn’t find anything in Aubrey’s clothes, so I went to Stacie’s. I flipped through them in no time at all, them barely being a problem. I glanced over the contents of the shelf above, seeing nothing that could have potential evidence inside. I closed the closet, turned off the light, and spotted the next place for me to check.

The wardrobe matched the bed frame with its rich accents of the oak and maple wood. It had two doors, one holding a full-length mirror, the other left plain with the hand carved embellishments. I carefully opened the doors, and no surprise, there were elegant dresses hanging on a little rack. On the right-hand side, behind the door with the mirror, were four little shelves with varying necklaces and other pieces of jewelry, accustom to fancier lives. There were two small drawers on the bottom, filled with a few other things I didn’t even bother to mention. I was just about to close up the wardrobe when I noticed a small anomaly in the top of the wardrobe. There was just the smallest crack in one of the seams in the wood panel that covered the small top of the wardrobe. My close observation of the problem drew the attention of Stacie and Pieter, both wondering what I had found. I looked to Pieter, who just shrugged, and then to Stacie, who had stopped crying and stared in confusion at me and the wardrobe. I decided to proceed with my investigation, and I stood on the tips of my toes to fully see the crack. Realizing it was an actual crack and not a manufacturer’s fault, I knocked twice on the wood. I was surprised at the sound I got back. I knocked again and confirmed what I believed.

Hollow. This compartment was hollow. I pushed with some force on the wood panel, and it caved. I removed the wood piece, further searching the area for evidence as to why that came undone, and how. When the dust cleared, all that was left was a beige box about the size of a shoe box. I pulled the box out, turned around with it in my hands, and gaped at Stacie. “I have no idea what that is,” she pleaded, reading my perplexed expression. I walked to the bed, and set the box down, lifting the top off. Inside were many things I didn’t expect. The first was a picture of Aubrey, but she was hugging another woman I quickly recognized as that tiny maus Beca. Aubrey was smiling wide and wearing a tuxedo. Beca was anything but happy, and she was wearing a tight fitting dress, a strapless one at that. I showed the picture to Stacie, and she gasped, saying, “That was our wedding day!” I laid the photo down on the bed and continued my search. The next was a print out of an email from Aubrey to Beca. I read the first line, “Dear Beca, I hope I can talk to you soon, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” I set that down on the bed next to the photo, glancing to Stacie who was about to cry. The next item I pulled out took me and Pieter by surprise but took Stacie on an emotional rollercoaster. I held it by my thumb and two forefingers, lifting it into view of us all. The dark blue lace panties appeared to be too small for Stacie, but about the right size for Beca.

Stacie couldn’t control herself at this point. She cried and cried, screaming obscenities like, “That bitch! How could she do this to me?! She slept with my wife! And now she’s gone! God! I could fucking kill her right now!” It wasn’t until the last comment that I intervened. Stacie was about to walk out of the house, but I managed to grab hold of her wrist before she got far. She turned around, and on impulse, smacked me across the face. Holding my temper, but being aggressive, I got hold of her other wrist and forced them both behind her back. I whipped out my handcuffs and quickly attached them to Stacie. I angrily gritted through my teeth, “Stacie Conrad, you are under arrest for assault of a police officer. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law . . . “ I placed her in the back seat of the ranger’s sedan and went back to Pieter. I had a red mark on my cheek, and I ignored it as I loaded everything back into the box, handing it off to the guys who handled evidence. I disregarded Pieter’s questions while I directed everyone out of the house, and back to the station for the many processes about to happen. I was just as pissed as Stacie was, and I felt almost every feeling I had for Beca be destroyed with a matter of a few objects.

Man, the rest of this case was going to fuck us all up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll ask again: Who do you think murdered Aubrey?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Becommissar fluff, but a lot of angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I was trapped in a car for like 8 hours and didn't have a word count, so I got out of hand.

**Beca**

 

A week later, and I still couldn’t make sense of the situation. I was right next to her when she died, and I blamed myself for it. She was dying right next to me, and I didn’t do anything. I haven’t heard from Stacie in days, which was concerning, considering she typically called me every day to see if I could come over and help her through this. So her not calling in days meant one of two things: She’s learned to deal with the grief and pain on her own, or she couldn’t deal with the emotions and did something drastic. Knowing Stacie, she would most likely go with the first option, though I doubted anyone could get over their lover’s death in less than a week. I couldn’t get over my parents' divorce until I was halfway through college, which was a good six-sh years after they did. Well, people handled pain in their own way, and apparently, Stacie coped with all of it in as little time as it took to receive your order from Amazon. I was somewhat proud of her, but I couldn’t help feel some pity for her because she was the prime suspect. I knew she wouldn’t murder Aubrey, especially while she was halfway to her due date. She was to give birth in January, specifically the 16th, and she’s barely figured anything out. It didn’t help that she had to raise this child alone.

I was willing to help her, like with babysitting and such, but I didn’t want to seem like I wanted to be the child’s other mother. That would’ve been a bit awkward, though I don’t think anything was as awkward as that time I meant to complain to Chloe about my dad, then actually texted my dad the entire rant I had prepared. God, I hated the speech he gave me afterward. I shook my head as I walked into the police station, remembering most of what he said. I went to the reception desk, which was surprisingly tall, and waited for the person to acknowledge my presence. They merely looked at me, eyebrow arched in question, and I told them, “I’m here to see Detective Krämer. He called and said he needed me for questioning.” The person grunted, then pointed vaguely behind them and scowled, “He’s over there.” I looked behind them and saw a ton of cops sitting at desks and drinking coffee. “Thanks,” I murmured, a bit sarcastically because they could’ve been more specific. I walked away, weaving through the desks, and tried to find a familiar face in the sea of strangers. I didn't take a few more steps before I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around to find Pieter with a sort of smile on his face. "Ms. Mitchell, I'm glad you could make it," he said, removing his hand from my body.

He guided me to one of the interrogation rooms after I was stripped of my bag and jacket. I was wearing a plaid skirt with a black collared shirt in which the back was almost entirely lace. I was glad the back wasn't see through because I could feel several eyes watching my receding figure. Pieter motioned to a chair at a table in the center of the room and told me to sit there as I waited for another detective to question me because he had to investigate something else for the case. I sat there for what felt like an hour but was actually fifteen minutes, and then I heard dialogue from the hall. "You're needed in interrogation room three," I heard Pieter say to someone else I couldn't identify until they walked in. The detective that walked in stopped as soon as they saw me. They were holding two cups of coffee, one I assumed was for me, and they were wearing aviators. I didn't know who it was until they spoke. "Jesus Christ! Not you again!" Sergeant Meyer yelled, glaring back at a laughing Pieter. "Nice to see you too," I added sarcastically, not ready to endure questions from the person I haven't been able to stop crushing on since I first saw her. She just huffed out a breath, glided to the table, and set the coffee down on the surface, pushing one toward me.

Glided. She glided. God, this woman was pure poetry. I tried not to focus on the Shakespeare pouring from her every move as she positioned her sunglasses on top of her head, pushing her hair out of her face. I reluctantly held the cup up to my lips before I took a sip and said, "Thanks." She stared at me for a long while, occasionally taking draws from her cup, and overall it freaked me out how she barely blinked once. I thought I could see so many emotions pass over her face as she continued to squint at me. From anger to betrayal and back through the alphabet. I felt this scrutinizing and judging of my appearance was going to be fairly lengthy, so I noted what she was wearing. A simple black suit jacket, white polo with no tie, and matching black pants. She seemed a bit taller than last time, but I attributed that to the fact that I was sitting and she was standing, or the fact that she was wearing heeled leather boots. She sensed my gaze running back up her body, and stepped closer to the table, placing her coffee down. She leaned down, resting her hands on either side of the chair she was standing behind. She glared at me harshly for a moment more before finally asking, "Were you having an affair with Aubrey Conrad?"

I nearly choked on the sip of coffee I held in my mouth at the intimation of me and Aubrey sleeping together. I set it down on the table quickly, coughing to remove the tickle in my throat, and hiccupped, "What?!" My eyes shot up to hers in surprise and begged her for an explanation. "Were you or were you not having an affair with Aubrey Conrad?" she repeated, straightening back out. I stood up, pushing the chair back a few inches, and shouted, "No! Why the fuck would you think that?!" Sergeant Meyer simply picked up a box that was on the floor out of my sight and opened it. I glanced down to find her setting three things on the table in front of me. One was a photo of me and Aubrey at her wedding, another was an email she sent to me earlier this month, and the last thing was a pair of lace underwear that I would never wear. "These things were found in this box a few days ago at Stacie Conrad's house. The box was hidden in a secret compartment in her wardrobe," Luisa stated rather plainly, crossing her arms across her chest. "So unless you want to come clean now, I suggest you start explaining," she continued as she sat down across from me. I sat down as calmly as I could and took a deep breath to prevent myself from lashing out. I turned the photo to her as I explicated, "This was taken out of context. First of all, Aubrey was drunk and she knows no personal boundaries when hammered. She saw me alone at a table and dragged me onto the dance floor, hugging me as her favorite song came on." I glanced over the email, then told Luisa, "This was also taken out of context. She was emailing me about being the DJ for a party she was going to have at the end of the month and wanted to talk to me in person about it. That's why I was with her during the accident. We were going to the venue when she died and crashed." I lifted the bag with the underwear inside it and stared long and hard at Luisa. "These, for your information, are not mine. Sure, they may appear to be in my size, but that's the catch. I don't own any lacy lingerie like most women my age. Most women my age are in a relationship, and me being single as fuck, I don't see any point to have them, unless I frequently went to clubs. I mean, I do, but that's for work. I don't whore myself around in these, especially since I'm still a virgin!"

Luisa raised both her eyebrows at me, glancing me up and down as if she was surprised to hear that. "For someone who is so feisty? I find that hard to believe," she teased, standing back up with her coffee. She smirked at me before she sipped her coffee happily. That smirk made me want to kiss her right then and there, but I kept some professional air between us. Some. I stood up and yelled at her, "For someone so condescending, I find it hard to believe you're so beautiful!" I didn't realize that what I just said was half insult, half compliment until Luisa laughed and retorted back, "Oh Feisty Maus, you wouldn't know how to insult someone if they gave you a list." I balled my hands into fists, and answered back, "I wouldn't know how to control myself if you weren't wearing anything!" I internally cursed myself for being so stupid, but Luisa smirked again and stepped toward me, keeping the distance of the table between us. She put her coffee down, leaned on the table, and got all up in my face, our faces barely an inch apart. She met my eyes, and I could clearly see a somewhat hungry look in her eyes as she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. I could feel her tongue brush against my lips in a teasing way before she breathed out, "I could teach you, because as you said, 'I'm single as fuck' but I certainly do like to." She glanced down at my lips and I followed suit before I realized what happened. I released the breath I was holding, and caught her smiling at me, her eyes darkening with desire. At that moment, Pieter walked in with a file in his hand, and he stopped immediately once he saw the situation between me and Luisa.

Neither she or I turned to him, but kept our eye contact, silently undressing each other with our eyes. Pieter deciphered what was going on between us, and snapped his fingers, yelling, "Hey Sarge! No eye-fucking with the witness! You're supposed to be questioning her!" Luisa broke eye contact first, turning her head to face Pieter, and returned, "I'm doing no such thing! And if you tell me how to do my job again, you'll  Sehen Sie, dass ich sie wirklich mag und Sie wissen, dass ich sie nur ein bisschen necken wollte ." He nodded his head, and just handed her the file he had before walking back out of the room. It wasn't until then that I felt the heat in my cheeks, neck, chest, and everywhere in my body. The whole time, she didn't move her face away from mine, and when she turned back to me, she looked down at my lips again. I could've sworn that I saw her lip be pulled into her mouth slightly before she gasped and sat back down in her chair, reading over the information in the file. After a confusing look contorted her face, she asked, “You seem really innocent, what the fuck could you have been arrested for?” It became obvious to me that she was reading over a file on me, and she had read my criminal record. Knowing it was pointless to lie, I answered, “Public intoxication, Public nudity, and Public indecency.” I sat down, drinking the rest of my coffee between answers.

“Why would you do such stupid things?”

“I wanted to get away from my dad. He wouldn’t stop yakking about how I was wasting my life with DJ-ing.”

“But you wasted three years in prison?”

“I got away from him. The bad part is, I was sprayed with a hose.”

"Okay, then." Luisa closed the file and slapped it back onto the table. She sat back in the chair, and folded her hands together, positioning themselves behind her head in a reclining position. I would've killed to be her hands right then, tangled in her silky blonde hair without a care. She sat there for a minute, head tilted back while she exhaled three deep breaths audibly, and she looked like she was thinking about something in its entirety. She finally looked to me, collected all the evidence and files together, and said, "Thank you, Maus. That's good for today. Here is my card if you ever need to call me." She gave me a tiny piece of cardstock that had her name, cell phone number, and business number. "Thanks, Luisa. I mean Sergeant Meyer. I'll be sure to call." We both rose, and left the room, throwing away the empty cups. "It's fine, Maus. You may call me Luisa. Sergeant Meyer sounds too professional," she clarified as she retreated to her office for her bags. I gathered my belongings and said goodbye to Luisa before leaving the station. I got to my car and realized it was sunset. I got to the station like three hours ago, and I couldn't believe how fast time flew. I thought over the day all the way to the front door to my apartment which for some reason was opened, more like busted open.

The lock was broken and the doorknob was dented like someone repeatedly hit it with something blunt. Fear for the worst provoked several responses from me. My breathing quickened and so did my heartbeat. Two voices in my head were arguing, the more curious one yelling, "Go inside! Go inside!" while the scared one was demanding, "Call Luisa! Call Luisa!" Not wanting to be conflicted, I pulled out my phone and dialed Luisa's cell as I stepped into the apartment. I was nearly crying when she answered, "Hallo?" I kept my voice to a minimum and wandered through the small hallways that were trashed. "L-Luisa?" I asked timidly, fear and worry making my voice shaky. I could hear her become defensive through the phone, and she responded, "Ja, Maus. It's me. What's wrong?" I walked into my room, hoping no one was in there, and sat on my bed curled into a ball. Tears were streaming down my face, and I said shakily, "S-Someone broke into my apartment. I don't know where they are, or if anything was taken, but I'm really scared. I didn't know who else to call, and, and—"

"Stop right there, Maus. I'm coming to get you. Where are you?"

"My apartment. Apartment 4D in the Retro Complex a few minutes from the police station."

"Alright. I'm on my way. Pack a bag if you can."

"Okay. Please hurry." I didn't hang up because I didn't want to feel alone in this situation, and Luisa sensed that I didn't hang up, so she tried to calm me down as I placed clothes in a bag. "It's going to be alright, Maus. I'm right here, and no one will ever hurt you as long as I am." Once I finished throwing most of my closet in a little duffel bag, I sat back down on the bed with the bag. I cried into the phone, small sniffles and whimpers leaving me as my breathing became ragged. This seemed to push Luisa faster to get to me, the sounds of a car stopping coming through in the background. "I'm here now, Maus. I'll be with you in a minute."

"Okay. Okay." I hung up the phone and clutched it in my sweaty palm as I curled back up and buried my head in my lap. I sobbed until I heard a familiar voice say, "Maus? Where are you?" I lifted my head enough to see over my knees, and I let out a muffled, "In here, Luisa. I'm in here." In seconds, Luisa was standing in my door frame, keys held in one hand, her phone in the other. She took one look at me and approached me with some haste. As soon as she was within reach, I acted on impulse and wrapped my arms around her neck, pulling her closer. She softened up at my touch and brought me into her lap, my head laying on her chest. One of her arms was around my waist, and the other kept me close to her. She let me nuzzle against her before she threw my bag over her shoulder, and picked me up bridal style. "Let's get you out of here, Maus," she whispered, gently kissing my forehead. She carried me to the elevator, and even then she didn't put me down. She didn't let go of me until we were in her car and she set me down in the passenger seat. She placed my bag in the back seat and made her way to the driver's side, sliding in next to me. She started the car, buckled her seatbelt, and checked that I had mine on. I did, and I couldn't stop the shaking in my hands and legs. Luisa began the drive and she saw I was freaking out, so she reached over and held my hand. She intertwined our fingers and gave me a light squeeze of reassurance. She was here for me. I could trust her. I thought this as I felt how the softness in her hand resembled the softness in her heart at this moment. She cared for me enough to help me in this situation, and that simple fact made something inside me glow brightly. I only thought of what Luisa made me feel at that exact moment. Not about the break in, not even about the way she represented an actual angel at that moment. Only about the feelings that wormed their way into my chest and made my heart beat faster than it had before. My thought process was only interrupted by Luisa's observation, "You're staring again, Maus."

I snapped out of the daze I was in, and sighed, "Sorry. I couldn't help it."

"That's quite alright. I've never been one for attention, but I don't seem to mind yours." She smiled at me with the most genuine smile I've seen from anyone. We stopped at a red light, and she turned to me, wiping my tears with the hand I wasn't holding. "There. Now don't cry anymore, Maus. Makes eyes puffy," she whispered before going back to driving. We drove a few more minutes in silence, the comfort of each other's hand being enough to fill the empty space. I wondered if, as I got to know Luisa better, she would be able to fill the other empty spaces in my life. In my heart. I smiled a bit at the thought of having Luisa as a permanent part of my life, and that didn't go unnoticed by Luisa. She glanced at me before she asked, "According to you Americans, isn't there some 'creep factor' in relationships?" I questioned why she would be asking that, but let it go and answered her question instead. "Yes. It's the older person's age divided by two plus seven. That determines the lowest age of people that person can date, or marry."

"Why seven?"

"I don't know. People just chose it. So how old are you?" I smiled a bit cheekier this time, trying to see if I was an eligible bachelorette.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She smirked back, making a really goofy face with it. I laughed a little, then began to deduce the oldest age I could date without it being weird. "I'm 25, which means the maximum age you could be is . . . "

"You're really figuring this out?"

"Yes. And don't interrupt me, I'm almost done."

"I would have to be younger than 36." I huffed at her for stealing my thunder, but continued, "Okay, and you are . . . ?"

"Fine. 34, Pushy Little Maus." I couldn't stop the fist pump that came with my wave of excitement. Luisa laughed and shook her head like she was thinking of childish I knew I was. And like a child, I began babbling about nonsense. "Well, look at the bright side. At least it's not a 20-year difference. That would be weird. But I guess age doesn't really matter because, at any age, I'm sure you'd look as gorgeous as you do now—"

"Stop! I'm tired of fending off your groping! If I take you to dinner, will you shut the hell up?" She stared at me with intense eyes that bled sincerity, and I said, "Yes."

********

"H-Hey Luisa," I asked, lightly shaking Luisa's shoulder. It was two in the morning, and I was standing by Luisa's bed, trying to wake her up quietly. We were at her apartment, and she had let me sleep in the guest bedroom, but I didn't want to be alone after the incident from earlier. She barely stirred, and I shook her again, a bit harder than last time. "Luisa?" Her eyelids fluttered open, and she caught sight of me not too far from her. She half sat up, resting on her left arm as she wiped some of the sleep from her face with her right hand. Eyes half opened, she asked, "Yes, Maus?" The pink tank top she was wearing shone dimly in the moonlight coming from the window above the small headboard, and her blonde hair cascaded down from her head in beautiful pale waves. I awkwardly stared at the ground, clutching the pillow in my arms, and I immediately felt like a child for being scared of the dark, but I explained shyly, "I-I had a . . . a, um . . . nightmare. I know it's stupid, but would you mind if I . . . um . . . maybe slept with you for tonight?" I didn't look at her, but did hear her yawn and slightly laugh. I didn't look away from the spot I was staring intently at until she moved the sheets next to her, inviting me in. "Of course, Maus. I understand your fear," she said, laying back down in the bed. I slowly climbed in next to her, being careful to not push anything that she wasn't comfortable with, and placed the pillow I had next to me.

Sensing my awkwardness, Luisa said, "Silly Maus," and pulled me closer by my waist. One of her arms worked its way around my waist, while the other one came across my chest and gripped firmly to my shoulder. She had me in a fairly tight embrace, but I didn't mind because of two reasons. One, it distracted me from my fears and worries, dissipating them as they materialized. Two, it was hard to deny that her body against my back, her arms holding me close, and the leg that was haphazardly thrown over mine weren't what I found to be endearing. I draped my arms over hers, and snuggled closer to her, drifting off to sleep with her warmth, her steady breath on my neck, the way she cuddled her cheek against my shoulder, and the way she made me feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:
> 
> Sehen Sie, dass ich sie wirklich mag und Sie wissen, dass ich sie nur ein bisschen necken wollte - see that I really like her and you'll know I just wanted to tease her a bit


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically Becommissar fluff.

**Luisa**

 

What was I doing? I must've been crazy when I asked Maus out to dinner because I didn’t think it would get me this nervous. I was debating for a long time on whether to cancel or to go through with the idea, but my morality decided for me. And so I stood in my room, in front of a mirror, wearing a lace long sleeve maroon dress. The dress cut off at my knees and flowed outward. The little black booties I was wearing with the dress gave me a little bit more height, but nothing more than a few inches. My hair was in a French braid that came to the side, but some strands were left loose to give me a sort of wind swept look. I looked at myself in the mirror twice before finally checking that my makeup wasn’t smudged or anything. Sure, I felt I was overcompensating for something so casual, but I didn’t know what else to do. I was going to spend an entire evening with someone who was so important to the case, to her friends, and . . . to me. As much as I hated to admit it, I had to say to at least myself that Maus made me feel something I hadn’t felt in years, only stronger. And honestly, that scared me. I feared the one thing I was inevitably heading toward . . . love.

Love for someone I had only met a week and a half ago. Love for someone I’ve already slept next to. Love for someone I feared I may lose. For now, my feelings remained at a fairly strong liking, I needed to see how much she truly meant to me before I could allow myself to let her in. I was reminded of an American song and began singing it under my breath as I gained the courage to walk into the living room, where I’m sure Maus was already waiting for me. I turned around, whispering, “Putting my defenses up, ‘cause I don’t want to fall in love. If I ever did that, I think I’d have a heart attack,” only to find Maus leaning against my door frame. Her arms were crossed across her chest, and she had raised an eyebrow at me. “Didn’t know you listen to Demi Lovato,” she commented, rocking off the wall and standing up straight. She was wearing a tight black dress that had a sweetheart neckline and thin straps, but not spaghetti strap thin. The dress came down to her knees but was still fairly tight. We retrieved the rest of her clothes when we went to her apartment the other day. I ordered a police officer to investigate, but Maus insisted not to because she realized nothing was missing. The encounter still had me fretful for Maus’s safety, so I had her placed under witness protection, which was at my apartment. She often times climbed into bed next to me on nights when she just wanted someone else.

Neither one of us thought anything of it, cuddling next to each other for company, and we kept a professional relationship despite the minor intimacy between us. She spent all her days since the incident at her apartment in my apartment, doing whatever she wanted until I got home. When I did come home, I usually got a shower quickly, changed into pajamas, and then we’d do something together. We didn’t really watch much TV, as she has a strong disposition for movies and TV shows. I understood her adversity toward them, but I couldn’t help ask her to watch some things with me. The fact that we got into a daily routine in a few days made me laugh, and made me feel a bit weird that we were going to break that short lived tradition with a night out on the town. I looked Maus up and down, taking in every curve and accent in her figure before I met her eyes. She reciprocated the stares before grinning, “Are we going to go? Or do you want to go at it right now?” I tried to look disgusted but ended up letting my mouth hanging slightly open at the thought. I jumped back to reality with a mental shake and grabbed my handbag off my bed. Maus walked out of the room, smirking like she knew where my mind wandered to for a brief second. I followed her to the front door, where she grabbed her own purse and opened the door. She stepped out into the hall, allowing me room to lock the door, and we headed out.

The walk down the street wasn’t too long or horrendous, but I had to hold Maus’s hand for her to keep up. We walked in, and I saw her face light up in wonder. I pulled her toward the host station, and told the person there, “Reservation for Luisa Meyer.” The man looked up from the papers he was sorting through, and got one look at me before he excitedly yelled, “Luisa?! Is that really you?!” He came around the podium and hugged me tightly. I let go of Maus’s hand for a second to hug him back, and replied, “Yes, Ferdinand, it’s me. How’s Mutter been?” He pulled away, holding my hands in his, and told me, “She’s alive and well. She’ll be so glad to know you’re here.”

“Oh, I’m sure the entire family is going to be as happy as you are.” I turned to Maus, realized she was still confused at the situation before her, and explained, “Ferdinand’s family are a family friend from when I first moved here from Germany. We’ve stayed in touch all these years, but work has kept me from coming here as often as I would’ve liked.” I then remembered Maus still didn’t know who Ferdinand was, so I introduced them. “Ferdinand, this is Maus. Maus, this is Ferdinand. Sorry, I meant Beca. I’m so used to calling her Maus.” Ferdinand laughed, shook  _ Beca’s _ hand, and whispered to me, “You always liked nicknaming the ones you liked.” I playfully slapped his arm before taking Beca’s hand back in mine. “Now may we be seated?” I asked, smiling. We followed Ferdinand to my favorite spot in the entire jazz club, perfectly distanced from the dance floor and next to a huge window that gave a beautiful view of the streets of Atlanta. We sat down across from each other, and Ferdinand produced a bottle of wine seemingly out of thin air. He poured us our first glasses before allowing the server to take over. He gave me one more warm smile before turning to Maus, “It’s been great meeting you, Beca.”

We got our orders in, and talked for some time about our favorite things, varying from colors to songs. “So, what’s your favorite song?” Maus asked, sipping her third glass of wine. I was surprised she wasn’t drunk by this point, but I didn’t care. “You’re going to think I’m really old.”

“Don’t worry. I already  _ know _ you’re really old, so that doesn’t matter.” I gave her a death glare before picking my glass up and bringing it to my lips. “‘What is Love’ by Haddaway,” I whispered into the glass, making Maus choke on her drink. “What?” she said, wiping her lips of the spilled wine.

“You heard me. ‘What is Love’ by Haddaway.”

“Damn, you really are old.” We both laughed, and our meals were brought out. An hour had passed before we were finished eating and finished drinking the entire bottle of wine. Another bottle was brought out on Ferdinand’s request, and I just thought, “He’s trying to get me laid tonight. But that’s not going to happen.” Suddenly, a girl I recognized to be Ferdinand’s sister Astrid walked onto the stage and noticed me. She smiled and then introduced the next song. “This song goes to all the new couples out there with us tonight,” she explained, looking in my direction. I smiled and turned to Maus, who was smirking back at me. She apparently was thinking the same thing as we both stood up and headed to the dance floor hand in hand. The song began, and I knew it was the song I loved to listen to when I hung around here as a teen. Astrid then began to sing the lyrics to the song, “I Wanna Love Again,” by Natalie Cole. I took Maus by the waist, holding her other hand, and pulled her close. She held my shoulder and started to sway to the soft jazz. She rested her head against my chest, and I gently set my head on top of hers, singing the harmony to Astrid.

“ How do I start? Where do I begin? I've been hurt so much. I just need a friend. Could it be you? Will you break through these walls? Are you willing to help them fall?” I sang quietly, closing my eyes to visualize the possibility of these words happening with Beca. I noticed that she was silent the whole time, listening to the way my voice fluctuated and faltered at some words because they held such meaning. She added pressure to my shoulder and hand when she felt my heartbeat skip or when she heard me stop singing. I wanted to cry so badly, the emotions I was feeling were beginning to become too much for me. I held tighter onto Beca’s waist, fully wrapping my arm around her. She seemed to understand the deeper meaning to the literal lyrics sang, but respected me enough to not force me to talk about it. I didn’t know if I could handle myself if I even thought about talking to Beca about my feelings. By the end of the song, we were more hugging than dancing as she was squeezing me around the waist like she wanted to bandage the holes in my heart that nothing else could. I breathed in and out until I felt calm enough to pull away from Beca without falling to pieces. I didn’t know what else to do besides grab her hand as if it were the only thing keeping me sane and hold her close.

She responded affectionately by holding my hand and leaning into my side. We walked back to our table where several people I knew were waiting. I smiled, though entirely embarrassed, and greeted every one of them with a hug and kiss on the cheek. I introduced Beca to all of them, and all of them to Beca, really wishing they hadn’t done this then. I finally got to Ferdinand’s mother, who was about as tall as Beca and hugged her the longest. She glanced at Beca to make sure she was out of earshot, then whispered, “She’s a pretty one, isn’t she?” I glared down at her, whining, “Mutter! Please, none of this now. She’s just a friend.”

“Just a friend you danced with? Just a friend you held like someone else I know? Just a friend? I’ve known you for over twenty years, Luisa. I know when you’re lying. Now, tell me. She must be somewhat special to you if you bring her here.” She looked deeply into my eyes, and I knew I couldn’t resist her when she did. 

“Alright, she is special. I only met her like two weeks ago, but recently, she’s made me feel something more powerful than Mina ever did. I know that sounds crazy, but I think, I  _ know _ we could be something more than friends. I just don’t want to be hurt again.” I looked at the ground to avoid crying, but Mutter only raised my head back to face her. She created eye contact once again, and told me adamantly, “If she makes you feel something stronger than  _ Mina _ ever did, then you need to tell her. I can see it in your eyes, you want to tell her the three simple words you haven’t spoken in nearly ten years, but you let your fears of rejection and loss get in the way, so you go to say them, but hold back. Stop bottling up your emotions.” I nodded subtly, sighing because I knew she was right. I hugged her one last time before going back to Beca, who was standing awkwardly in a group of family friends.

I tugged her hand to pull her off to the side, but ended up pulling her into me, her face landing comfortably on my chest. Everyone laughed, and Beca slowly pulled away from me, her cheeks turning slightly turning red from embarrassment. I smiled at her, then announced to everyone, “Alright, we must be going. It’s pretty late.” Everyone groaned but stopped when we heard thunder rumble. We looked out the window and saw that it was . . . what the Americans say . . . raining animals, no cats, and dogs. That’s what it was. Mutter started to say, “I’ll call you a cab,” when I jumped in, “No need. We don’t live too far from here.” Everyone looked confused at the implication that Beca and I were living together until I clarified, “I’m her witness protector. She’s living with me until this case is solved.” A collective, “Oh!” emanated from the crowd, and I just huffed out a breath. I said my last goodbyes and Beca and I made our way to the exit. We opened the door, and since we didn’t have an umbrella, we began to foolishly run through the downpour. I held tightly to Beca’s hand while she tried to keep up. I loved the rain, but apparently she didn’t. I was giggling while she was frowning visibly. We were almost home when I looked back at her I found her smiling at my childish behavior.

We rode the elevator up to my apartment soaking wet, and Beca kind of shivered from her moisture. I hurriedly led her down the hall, unlocked the door, and got us both inside. She held her arms close to her chest as she started shaking from the cold. I reached nto a nearby closet, grabbed a towel off the top shelf, and chucked it at her face. She stiffened when the fabric hit her, and let it drop to the ground before she picked it up. “Thanks,” she grumbled rather bluntly. She dried herself off as best as she could, wrapping the towel around her drenched shoulders. “You may use the shower first, Maus,” I offered, moving out of her way. “Thanks,” she squeaked, scurrying past me to the bathroom. I munched on an apple while I waited for her to finish, and just listened to her quiet singing. I could barely hear what she was saying, but I knew what song she was singing. I cracked open the door and the lyrics to “Faith” by George Michael rang through clearly. I laughed a little at the song choice. “Calling me ‘Old’?” I went back out into the living room for not even five minutes before Beca walked out in sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. I smirked ar her, tossed out the apple core, and took a quick five minute shower. I came back in similar pajamas and found her sleeping on the couch. She must’ve dozed off while I was in the shower. I found a blanket and laid down behind her, covering ourselves with the blanket. 

A few seconds later, Beca opened her eyes and turned around in my arms. She looked at me indifferently, and asked, “What are you doing?” I looked back at her, smiled, then said, “Protecting you.”

“From what?” She raised an eyebrow.

I thought for a moment, then answered, “ . . . the cold. Now shut up and let me hold you.”

She seemed a bit done with my constant need for physical contact, so she grumbled out, “You know what spooning’s for? Spoons! Get off me!” She then rolled off the couch, taking the blanket with her, and landed on the floor. She tried sitting up, but hit her head on the coffee table in front of her. She rubbed the area where she hurt the most, and she blurted out, “This table must be hung for witchcraft at dawn!” All I thought at the moment was, “God, you’re so adorable!” But instead of voicing my opinion like I was told, I scolded, “God, you’re stupid! I’ll get the ice.”

********

I woke up early the next morning to the sound of screeching. I yawned as I made my way to the source of the sound. I stopped when I saw Beca trying to drag the coffee table out the door. The table was too wide to fit through the door, and she was struggling to angle it enough to get it through. “What. The fuck are you doing?!” She looked at me with as much sincerity as she could have, and told me, “This table must be hung for witchcraft.” I probably stared at her dumbfounded for an eternity before I shook my head and said, “Could you at least make it quick? I have to be at work in an hour.” She nodded her head and turned back to the table conundrum before her. Her face contorted into one of disgust and then she was bending over the trash can, throwing up. That rain had to have made her sick. I pulled her hair out of her face as she wiped her mouth and clutched at the marble counter. “That’s it. I’m staying home today. You need to be watched,” I decided, helping her clean herself up. She didn’t even protest. All she did was wash her mouth out, then let me carry her to my bed, where we stayed almost all day snuggled in each other’s arms.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Staubrey Background

**Stacie**

 

_ The day started like any other. I opened my eyes to find myself laying on Aubrey’s chest, the rest of my body off to the side with a leg thrown over her. Her arm wrapped around my waist, gently stroking my baby bump, and her lips close enough to touch. The next thing I sensed was her heartbeat. Strong, and soft like her. I could listen to it for hours. My arm was around her waist, feeling the bare skin against my own. We were both half naked, despite the cool temperatures outside, but together we found enough warmth between the two of us to be alright. I gently kissed her chest where I was laying, then started trailing up to her lips. With every kiss I placed, Aubrey woke up a bit more until I got to her lips. Just before my lips touched hers, her finger slipped in between, and a devious smile over took her. “Morning, Preggers,” she whispered, removing her finger. Her eyes were open, and she was staring at me like she knew what I wanted to do. I stared back at her, kissed her briefly, then whispered, “Morning, Daddy.” I straddled her legs as she sat up, holding my belly for observation. I wrapped my arms around her neck as she became fascinated with my size, her pupils dilating dramatically. She kissed my stomach, then kissed me long and passionately. _

_ I deepened the kiss when I gripped both sides of her face and angled it toward mine in an attempt to slip my tongue inside. She pulled back before I could, warning, “No, no, Stace. We talked about this. No sex until the baby is born. You’ve done well so far, and do you really want to stop that now?” I gazed at her with an innocent smile before responding, “Oh, Bree. I don’t think we’ve stopped for as long as you think. Remember those times you forgot your lunch and had me bring it in? Or those times when something good happened at work and all you wanted to do was make me feel as great? Now all I’m doing is returning the favor.” I whispered the last few sentences in her ear to get her riled up, and it worked. She bit her lower lip and pulled me closer by the waist. I could almost feel her coming undone, wanting me to touch her before she did it herself. I kissed her below her ear and kissed my way down her jawline. I planted a firm, but persuading kiss on her lips before I pushed her back on the bed. Resting on all fours, I made my way down her body as agonizingly slow as I could. I got down to her legs, which were tightly closed, and gave her a chellenging look. _

_ She glared down at me, and tried to scold me, “Stacie, no. I’d rather not hurt the baby.” I sighed, “Fine. But I’m going to leave you with this.” I applied just the tiniest bit of pressure below her belly button before crawling back up her body and laying down on top of her. I nuzzled my head into her neck and thought of a different plan. She started to speak to me about a few things that needed to get done at the office while I slowly ground my hips down into hers. As she continued, I began to sit back up on her stomach, still slowly adding pressure to her. Her hands unconsciously switched from my waist to my hips, where she followed my movements. I pressed down harder into her hips, and she slightly arched into me, sending me a bit high. I braced myself with my hands on her legs that were just behind me, and lightly bit my lip to keep myself from going to fast. By this point, Aubrey had given up trying to tell me to stop or droning on about problems with work, and she was just seeing who was going to be dominate right now. I was about to submit to Aubrey’s light thrusts up into me until I pushed down hard into her and her hands flew off me and up by her head. _

_ “Alright, fine! You win, but don’t think I won’t get my revenge after you’re finished,” she warned, seeing me come back up to her face. I kissed back up her neck, lightly caressing her breast. Her head tilted back, allowing me more access to her neck, and I whispered, “Oh, I hope you do.” I bit down, left a mark, and navigated my hand back down her body. Her breath caught as I neared the place she wanted me most, and I teased her a bit. She held my lips to her neck with a hand tangled in my hair, and she kept me on top of her with a hand at my waist. I moved to be between her hips, and I used my free hand to spread her legs a bit wider. I slipped my hand into her underwear, feeling her shudder at my touch. Her stomach tightened, and she nearly begged, “Stacie, please!” I slowly dragged a finger over her clit, and she gasped loudly. I laughed against her neck, biting a bit harder than was almost necessary. I got one finger into her, and she bucked against me. I kissed her below her ear, and added another finger, playing with her clit. She moved even more, demanding more friction inside her than I was giving her. I started to go faster when Aubrey’s phone began to ring. _

_ I didn’t stop with my actions while Aubrey struggled to reach the device on the night stand. She told me, “S-Stop, Stacie. I h-have to reach the phone.” Her voice faltered because I pushed harder against her clit. She eventually got the phone, placing it to her ear as she answered it. “H-Hello?” she asked, using her leg around mine to keep me close. She listened to the person on the other line for some time before breathing out, “No, it’s fine. It was misleading on my part, but—” She let out a breathy moan when I pushed in another finger and pulled at her neck with my teeth. She quickly said, “That was nothing. I’m just doing something else right now.” She tried to keep her composure as her breath quickened because she was close to orgasm. I held off on getting her higher, as she would most likely scold me for doing so while she was on the phone, and instead kept her where she was. I ocassionally nipped at her neck, and pushed a bit harder, elicitng small reactions from her. She listened to the person she was talking to before finally saying, “Okay, fine. I’ll be there around 11:15. ‘Kay, bye.” _

_ She hung up the phone, placing it back on the nightstand, and turned back to me. She pulled me up to her face, kissed me passionately, again and again. Feeling her love through her lips, I sped up my pace to get her to let go of everything. She pulled my lower lip with her teeth, arching into me, and let me resume my sucking at her neck. She quickly found her way back to where we were before her phone call, her gasping becoming louder every second. I thrusted a few more times into her, and she moaned, “Stacie!”I slowed my speed, but didn’t pull out because I wanted her to ride out her orgasm for as long as possible. She caught my lips in a kiss as she came down, and removed my hand from herself. She brought my hand to her lips, and while she stared me in the face, cleaned my fingers all at once. I smirked knowing that she had been satisfied, and kissed her again, whispering, “I love you.” She pressed her forehead to mine, and whispered back, “I love you too.” I exhaled, and moved to lay next to Aubrey, keeping an arm around her. She turned on her side, and pulled me closer to her by my waist. She grinned evily as she snuck down my stomach, kissing me everywhere she could. _

_ She turned me onto my back, running her hands down my sides and to my hips. I laughed, and said, “Getting revenge, are you?” She looked at me from the valley between my legs, which she spread, and told me, “Just a bit of retaliation. My full revenge will come later.” I felt my underwear slide off my legs, and suddenly Aubrey’s lips were on the inside of my thighs. I shivered a bit at the touch, but didn’t stop her. I pulled her hair out of the messy bun it was in, and found my hands woven through the blonde locks. She kissed closer before flicking her tongue against my clit, a moan forming in the back of my throat. She grabbed one of my hands, intertwining our fingers. She used her other hand in the same place as her mouth, two fingers penetrating me quickly. My hand that was holding Aubrey’s tightened to a death grip, and I found myself being lightly bitten on the thigh for that. Aubrey went back to sucking on my clit and moving her fingers in and out of me at a steady pace. I urged her to go faster because the sensations I was feeling were becoming too much for me. _

_ She could hear the strangled groans welling inside me as she ate me out, and became desperate to hear me scream her name. She shoved another finger into me, curling at the right spot, and my jaw dropped open. A lustful, “Aubrey!” rang through the room, and echoed through the house. She kept licking me, soaking all my juices with her tongue. Once I was clean, she saundered back up to meet my eyes and kiss me. “Is that all I get?” I teased, cradling her face in my hands. “Unfortunately, yes. I have to meet a client for lunch at 11:15. If I didn’t, I would love to stay here with you and soon to be,” she coaxed, caressing my bump with her thumbs. “Alright, but I’ll be looking forward to your revenge,” I taunted, kissing her again. She got my clothes back in order then dismounted me to get ready. She walked into the bathroom, started the shower, and made a come hither motion to me. I followed her into the bathroom to find her naked and waiting for me. She helped me get undressed, and we both got in the shower, the warm water relaxing our tense nerves. _

_ We got out after thoroughly washing each other’s bodies, and got dressed for our respective days. She wore a polo, suit jacket, and pencil skirt that matched as she was handling business matters today. I just wore leggings and a long sleeve pink shirt, which was a bit tighter now that I was bigger than I was four months ago. Aubrey giggled at me when she saw me put my shirt on, and she patted my tummy, saying, “You might want to start looking in the maternity section of Target from now on.” I playfully slapped her arm, then turned away from her in a mock pissed off way. She noticed my fake disposition, and continued to tease, “Awww. Have I upset the Princess?” She wrapped her arms around my mid-section, and I couldn’t help but lean in to her. She tried to kiss my cheek, but I turned away and pouted mockingly, “Yes, you have. You know I’m self-conscious about that.” She instead kissed my neck, laughing into every kiss, and I laughed along with her. I turned in her arms, wrapping my arms around her neck, and kissed her on the forehead. “Seriously though, if you are self-conscious about it, tell me. I’ll stop making jokes about it,” she promised, kissing me. _

_ “It’s fine, Bree. Your jokes are actually really helpful. These damned hormones make me especially sensitive to movies like The Notebook, so I’ll take any and all humor,” I reassured, giving her a light squeeze. She reciprocated the hug, joking, “Okay, if it’s fine with you, Preggers.” We let go so we could go our ways for a few hours, her to her meeting, me to the doctor for my sixteen-week check-up. Since I had about an hour wait before I had to leave, I decided to see Aubrey off before I left. She collected her purse and keys, and headed toward the front door. I followed closely behind, taking in every step she took. I didn’t know this was the last itme I saw her, but I pretended it was. I always acted that way when she left, for I didn’t know what time would tell for us. She called me scared, but I never wasted a moment I had with her. She stopped at the door, turned around, and kissed me passionately, bringing me out of my thoughts. She pulled away, holding my cheek in her palm, and told me, “Stop worrying so much. I’ll be home before two.” I kissed her back, savouring in the taste and feel of her lips. She didn’t pull away until I did, because while she joked about my paranoia over time, she silently had the same fear. We broke apart at the same time, resting on each other’s foreheads before we hugged one last time. _

_ Aubrey opened the door and stepped out, turning around for one last kiss goodbye. “I love you,” I said, holding Aubrey’s hand. “I love you too,” she responded, squeezing my hand once before letting go and going to her car. I watched her drive out of the driveway and down the street before I retreated to the warm safety of the house. I sat down on the couch, and turned on the TV, flipping through the channels without more than a two-second glance. My hour was up soon enough, and I calmly drove to the doctor’s office. I arrived, and I was taken back immediately. I got into the gown they provided, and had the nurse check my vitals before the doctor came in to do the pelvic exam. I kind of shivered when I heard them say, “Feel my hand,” because they proceeded to touch my vagina and inspect me for any problems. That was finished before I had time to continue down the dark train of thought bubbling in the back of my mind. The rest of my exam was simple, but heartfelt. I got to see the baby for one of the first times thorugh the ultra sound machine, and had pictures printed out for all of my friends to rub it into. Mostly for Aubrey though. I knew how much she wanted to be here with me, but that damned last minute meeting with a client. _

_ I thanked my doctor, and went home. I checked the time. 2:56. Aubrey should have been home by then, and when I didn’t see her car as I pulled into the driveway, I became extra suspicious. I got inside the house before deciding to call her to see what was happening, and it went to voicemail after ringing the max amount of times. I called her about four more times after that, and got no answer. I sat down on the couch, turned the TV on to the Game of Thrones marathon, which was on the eighth episode of the fifth season, and tried to calm myself down. As time passed on, my anxiety grew higher and higher, until finally at around six thirty, my doorbell rang. I got up, and answered the door to a tall, blonde, blue-eyed police officer in jeans and a blue t-shirt. _

_ “Mrs. Conrad?” _


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homophobic language is used.

**Stacie**

 

I woke up from my nightmare with a jolt. I sat up on the metal bench that was in my holding cell and rubbed the last images from my mind. My eyes were red from crying, but my lack of sleep was mostly fixed. I never realized how relaxing being arrested could be until I actually was. I never meant to slap Sergeant Meyer across the face, but I couldn’t help the rage that was festering deep inside me. I was told a few days ago that Beca denied the affair, and explained the items found in that box. I felt less betrayed once I heard her explanation, for I realized that my fear and anger were irrational. I remembered my wedding day and how Aubrey acted when she was drunk. She hugged anyone and everyone. Plus, it was a hug. It would be different if it were a kiss or something, but it was a goddamn hug. Second, I knew Beca was one of the better DJ’s in the area, and that Aubrey was having a party, so it would only make sense for Beca to DJ. Third, I, unfortunately, knew Beca was a virgin, as many conversations about sex made her awkward. More awkward than she normally was. Also, I knew she didn’t have any sort of attraction to Aubrey because almost all throughout college, she had a deep seeded hatred toward Aubrey.

After much debating over the facts, I was able to calm myself enough to internally forgive Beca for anything I may have said about her. I ran my fingers through my hair, leaning against the wall behind me, slipped my hand under my shirt, and caressed my belly. I looked down to my stomach, and said, “We’ll get through this together. I just need to stop jumping to conclusions. After all, I don’t want you to get hurt by me.” I sighed in resolution at the thoughts of how I was going to start to get my life together. Beginning with this child. I was going to take better care of him or her by taking care of myself. As soon as I was released, if I was to be released, I would go home and clean up, then I would try to find a job. I could live off of Aubrey’s insurance for a good couple months or so, but I would then need to provide for myself and this unborn child. “Try downtown. They have businesses everywhere that are looking for entry level secretaries to help file paperwork and maybe learn some things,” Sergeant Meyer pointed out, sipping a coffee. She apparently had heard my small ramblings and offered a suggestion. I looked up to her, and said, “Thanks. I’ll look into it.” She nodded her head, “No problem. Plus with your business degree, you’ll have a leg over the competition.”

I was slightly weirded out that she knew I had a business degree, but I chalked it up to being something in my file that she read. I then noticed what she said, correcting her, “It’s a leg up on the competition, not leg over.” She snapped her fingers, and pointed, saying, “Thought so.” She was wearing jeans and heeled boots. The Fall Out Boy t-shirt she was wearing was extremely tight, and not to mention exposed part of her midsection I could barely see her belly button, but the tightness in the shirt hugged every curve of her torso. She was wearing a navy blue sports suit jacket as if to give some professional look to her ensemble, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, making her rectangular glasses in full view. She recognized my analysis of her outfit, wondered what I was so interested in, and clarified, “I was in a hurry this morning, and couldn’t put my contacts in.” I kind of laughed because  _ that _ is what she thought I was concerned about. I looked at her shirt again, and said, “I wasn’t wondering about the glasses, but I have to tell you, you might want to check the size on the shirts you buy next time.” She looked over herself, and once she saw how small the shirt was on her, she groaned, “Verdamnt! I should’ve known this looked a little small when I pulled it out this morning!”

“Is it yours? ‘Cause it looks like you’re wearing a child’s shirt,” I giggled, thinking of how that sounds.

“I have one exactly like it. Maus must have one too because this is definitely her size.”

“Who’s Maus? Do you have a hubby Sergeant?” I got a bit teasing because this was way too priceless.

“No, I don’t have a  _ hubby _ . I do have a house guest though. And she obviously likes to mess with me because I know I put my shirt in my dresser.”

“Who is she?”

“Must you know?” She glared at me, and I threw my hands up. “I only asked a question.”

“Maus is Beca. No, we’re not dating. No, I do not like her, like that at least. And I only call her Maus because she’s small and adorable.” I could see her scold herself for slipping up, and Detective Krämer come up next to her, hearing the whole conversation.

“Oh really? So what do you call that dinner you had with her the other day?” he questioned, wiggling his eyebrows to indicate a date. Sergeant Meyer glared at him sternly, and he just said, “What? Word gets around. Especially from a bull named Ferdinand.” Sergeant Meyer shook her head, sighing, and whispered, “God, I need to kill him.”

“Anyway, where is the little maus? I haven’t seen her in days,” he asked, changing the subject away from the Sergeant’s personal life.

“She’s under witness protection at my apartment. And she’s been sick the past couple days because we got caught in the rain on our way home. I would’ve taken today off, but she told me I couldn’t stay in bed with her anymore, and she finally convinced me to come in fifteen minutes before I had to be here. So that is why I’m also wearing this shirt. I pulled clothes out at random, and this was in my drawer for some reason,” Sergeant Meyer explained, tugging at the edge of the shirt to see if it could cover more of her. Her attempts were pointless and eventually gave up trying. Detective Krämer walked away laughing, and I tried to hide my laughter but failed. She shook her head before she continued what she was doing before the entire mess with her, I mean Beca’s, shirt happened. She unlocked the door to my cell and brought me to her office. I sat in one of the chairs in front of her desk, and she sat across from me in her own desk chair. She leaned back in her chair, stretching out, and she yawned a bit. She sat back forward, and asked, “Have you and Aubrey had problems in the past?” I knew she was serious now, so I told her honestly, “No domestic issues, but with other people yes.”

“What do you mean?”

“When Aubrey’s business took off, there was a lot of back lash from people.”

“You mean harassment?”

“Yeah. We were harassed in the most common ways. Internet chats, magazine cut out letters, that kind of stuff.”

“Did you ever report this?”

“We didn’t feel the need to. None of it got to a point of any real concern, but we did keep the screenshots and letters we found the funniest or most amusing.”

“Where are they?”

“We made a Hate Mail Scrapbook and kept that in the closet you searched. It was on the shelf, and is probably still there.” Sergeant Meyer scoffed as if she was thinking, “Of course it was on the shelf I didn’t check!” She looked around and then said, “Okay. We’ll go back to your house and get that scrapbook. Then it needs to be collected for evidence.”

“Does this mean I’m being released?”

“I dropped the charges yesterday. I just needed to be at the station to ask you what I just did,” she answered, getting her keys and getting up from her desk. I got up as well and followed her to her car. We were at my house not long after that, and I had her sit down while I went to get the book. I retrieved the item from the shelf and took a moment to admire the work put into something that was meant to tear me and Aubrey apart. The cover was brown leather, which we found fitting, and the black lettering looked to be sewn on there, and read, “Compliments For The Conrads”. The alliteration was necessary for emphasis on the sarcasm with the compliments part. There was a small square hole in the center of the cover meant for an image of some sort, and we put an image of a lovely heart, for the irony of it all. I walked downstairs with the book, and set it on the ottoman, in front of Sergeant Meyer. I sat on the couch perpendicular to the love seat Sergeant was sitting on. I let her inspect the cover before she opened it, reading the first couple. They were snippets from letters we received in the mail.

_ You Faggot-Dikes! _

**_Burn in hell!_ **

_ Die! Bitches Die! _

“The first one was funny because they spelled dyke wrong, and not to mention it was pointless to have faggot in there. The other two were funny because we received them from politicians,” I explained, turning the page. Sergeant Meyer just stared at the ridiculous comments made, both shocked and curious at the weird hilarity Aubrey and I found in them. She went through most of the book, reading the comments, and she occasionally wrote down pieces of information that may be helpful to her case. Every other page, she would add a little tick mark next to one of the main online harassers, BreeBaby. Aubrey and I found that user’s comments to be some of the funniest we’ve ever read, so we kept most of their posts. I was sure Sergeant Meyer would investigate this BreeBaby and see where it got her, but I doubted a username from a few years ago would help in a murder investigation. When we were finished, she closed the book and put it under her arm. “Thank you for this. I shall get it back to you as soon as Evidence will allow me,” Sergeant Meyer explained, heading toward the door.

“It’s no problem. Anything to help,” I said a bit timidly. I opened the door, holding it open for her, and just before she left, I piped up, “You know she doesn’t know what love is.” She turned back to me with a curious look on her face. “Who doesn’t know what love is?” I pointed to the shirt she was wearing, “Beca. She’s gone her whole life only knowing pain and hurt. She had no one who truly loved her, not even her parents. They divorced when she was twelve because she came out as gay. Her mother accepted her but was ruled unfit to be a parent, so Beca was forced to stay with her dad. He often times went off on her for no reason, and she tried to runaway numerous times. Every time the police brought her back, she was only met with anger and punishment. He never hit her, but she was verbally and mentally abused for so many years. She still to this day has trust issues with even me, and I’ve known her for, like, five or six years. But when she’s with you . . . there’s no way for me to explain it. She told me about how you helped her after her place was broken into, and the many times you’ve allowed her to sleep next to you without question. I know I have no right in saying this, but you need to open your goddamn eyes and see that she trusts you. She may seem to push you away most times, but that’s only because she’s afraid of letting people in. If she goes to  _ you _ for comfort, then give her all you can. She’s trying to open up to  _ someone _ , I can see it. But, I can also see that that person . . . is you. I know her pain wasn’t mine to share, but she trusts you enough to protect her, so she trusts you enough with the truth. And apparently with her shirt. All I’m trying to say is, three little words can hurt or save her. The choice of those three words is up to you. Have a good day, Sergeant.”

I could see the tears forming in the backs of Sergeant Meyer’s eyes as I began to close the door, but she caught the door, and interjected, “I haven’t been blind. I can see the struggle in her eyes every day, and I know she wants to tell me everything, but when she wants to, she holds back like she’s afraid of what I’ll do or say. I would never hurt her, and I do have strong feelings for her, I just don’t know if it’s love yet. I know what it’s like to be hurt by love, death, and misunderstandings, She’s not alone, not with me at least. Thank you, Stacie. Have a good day.” She stepped down the front porch steps and went back to her car. I closed the door, and slumped up against the door, breathing down my perpetuating emotions. Even thinking about what Beca went through was enough to make me cry, and these pregnancy hormones weren’t helping. I glanced around my living room, saw there was almost nothing to clean, and silently thanked Beca for all her help over the past two weeks. This case was just getting started, but it already had all the drama of one episode of a Spanish soap opera.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will now be more frequent, as my schedule has died down.

**Luisa**

 

The rest of the day after my visit to Stacie’s house was fairly solemn, at least in my mind. I thought over what Stacie said about Beca so many times, I knew I had to do something to show her that she could trust me fully. I couldn’t imagine being denied the sacred right of family because of my sexuality. My family was so supportive of me, and the fact that hers wasn’t, nearly broke my heart. Thinking of the times Beca ran away astounded me that she could stand to look at me. I mean, I was a police officer, and we were the ones who continued to bring her back to that awful place she wanted to get away from. Not me personally, but I blame the entire squad from that time. She had a hard enough time trusting Stacie. I could only imagine how hard it was for her to even look at me, and I never even knew. I drove home after work thinking of what to do that would let her trust me, but I couldn’t think of anything. I approached the door to the apartment, and I picked up a hint of sweet and sour sauce. I walked into the kitchen to find Beca plating Chinese stir fry she had made. She glanced up at me once, and said, “Hey Luisa. I hope you like Chinese food, ‘cause that’s what I made.” I removed my jacket, still wearing the Fall Out Boy t-shirt that was too small, and tossed it onto the couch.

I stared at her for some time, wondering how she covered up her emotional scars, and told her, “Great, thanks. I really love Chinese, so that’s perfect.” I walked over to her after she set the hot pan back on the stove, and picked her up, pulling her into a tight hug. She was wearing my Fall Out Boy t-shirt, which was way too big for her, and some shorts. She was confused at what I was doing, but then she eased into the hug, hugging me back around the shoulders. She wrapped her legs around my waist as she nestled her head into my shoulder, and I felt tears sting at my eyes. My breathing became slightly irregular when she whispered, “It’s okay, Luisa. You deserved to know the truth.” She forced my head into her neck, where I cried a little. I breathed out heavily and put her back down on the ground. She pulled my head down as she descended to the ground, my arms still around her waist, and her arms still around my neck. I could barely see her past the tears welled up in my eyes, but she switched her grip to my cheeks, caressing the skin there. I closed my eyes, and she kissed both of them, single tears falling from each of them. She wiped those away, and then said, “Thank you. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

She exhaled slowly before stepping a bit closer and pressing a light kiss to my lips. She pulled away after a second, and rested her forehead against mine, wrapping her arms back around my neck. She looked me in the eyes and soothed, “Now let’s go eat. I didn’t spend the entire day looking up recipes for nothing.” I finally let go of her waist, and we sat down at the table not too far from the kitchen. The stir fry was so amazing, I nearly inhaled it. She laughed at my childish behavior, which was me moaning almost every time I took a bite and the fact that I was still wearing her shirt. Once we were finished, we cleaned up and then sat on the couch talking. “Have you found any new suspects?” she asked me, trying to avoid questions about her past. “You know I’m not allowed to share that with you, even if I wanted to. But if you had any ideas as to who did it, I’m willing to listen.”

“As a matter of a fact, I do have one idea.”

“Really? Who?”

“Jesse Swanson.” The name caught me off guard when I realized who she was talking about. Aubrey’s business partner? “He’s been trying to get the company to be bought out by a bigger one for years, but Aubrey being the CEO, he didn’t have much of a decision,” she continued, looking over me. “Oh. I’ll have to look into that, thanks,” I mumbled, thinking over the possibility. She smiled and laughed before stripping herself of my shirt, exposing her black sports bra. She handed it to me as she sat on my lap, trying to take off the tight shirt. I sat forward and pulled it over my head, showing my blue sports bra. I gave her shirt to her and put my shirt on, laughing at how long we wore them. She got off me once her shirt was back on her, and sat next to me, leaning into my side. She rested her head on my shoulder while I picked up the remote and turned something on on the TV. We watched a movie called  _ Mr. and Mrs. Smith _ with Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt to pass the time. By the time it was over, Maus was lying across me in a little ball like a little mouse or squirrel. She was half asleep, but I could tell she wanted to go to bed. I picked her up and carried her to her bedroom, gently setting her down in the sheets.

I was about to go to my room for a shower, but she caught me by the wrist, saying, “Please stay.” I turned back to her, brushed a few hairs out of her face, and told her, “Alright, but I need to take a quick shower first. I didn’t get the chance to this morning.” She nodded, released my wrist, and settled back into the bed. I went and got a shower, not being gone for more than twenty minutes. I climbed in behind her, but before I could get her in our usual embrace, she flipped over to face me and buried my face in her chest. “I want to hold you tonight,” she whispered, kissing the top of my head. I eased into her touch, pulled her closer by her waist, and said, “Okay, but answer one question.” She seemed to know what was coming, so she said, “Just ask.” I looked into her eyes, which already looked a bit glum, and asked, “What did your father do that made you get yourself arrested?” She sighed, forcing tears back, and answered, “He hit me for the first time in my life. He slapped me clear across the face, and I got knocked into a shelf of glasses, which gave me this scar on my jaw.” She moved her head so I could see the medium length scar across her jawline, slightly raised. I ran my finger along the wound, imagining what pain it must’ve caused her.

I wanted to cry so badly, but I managed to fight back the tears as I kissed the scar. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, pressing my face back to her chest. She just hugged me, and kissed the side of my head before she commanded, “Protect me this time.” I nodded, and she stroked my hair until we both fell asleep for the night.

********

_ The legal dispute between Aubrey Conrad and Jesse Swanson centered on the integration of their company with another. Mr. Swanson was for the integration, but Mrs. Conrad was against it completely as she has said, “It will destroy the profit margin we have killed ourselves to achieve, and we would be selling out, which is something I would never do.” The case was dropped after Mr. Swanson gave in to Mrs. Conrad’s ideas and point of view. No further issues have been recorded since then. _

I read the short report I asked Pieter for this morning while sipping my coffee, contemplating what to do next. I laid the paper down on my desk and yelled to him, “Pieter! Check Mr. Swanson’s whereabouts on September 18th. Go through everything you can think of. Traffic cams, the security footage from his office, but you’ll need a warrant for the security footage.” He looked at me through the open door, nodded his head, and said, “Consider it done, Sarge.” I thought for a second and grabbed my keys and purse. I started to head out of the office, informing, “I’m going to his office to see if he or any of his workers can give me more information on this legal case. I’ll bring back some lunch. Text me your order before two or else you’re getting your own lunch.”

“Where are you planning on going? Because I want to know what you’re getting,” Pieter asked, leaning back in his chair. Just then, I received a text from Maus.

_ Just in case you hadn’t planned anything for lunch, I made some chicken alfredo. Then afterward, we can eat a slice of the chocolate cake I made. _

I licked my lips at the thought of chocolate cake, knowing full well she made it just for me. I glanced at Pieter, who was smirking and texted her back.

**_I was just about to head out for lunch, so perfect timing. And you’re trying to fatten me up, aren’t you Maus?_ **

_ Maybe. I just know you like chocolate cake and thought you deserved something special. _

**_I already have something sweet and special enough._ **

_ Really? What is it? _

**_You._ **

_ Awww. Thanks. You’re totally the sweet one though. _

**_I don’t think so. You’re the adorable Maus._ **

“Stop flirting with her already!” Pieter groaned, reading my texts over my shoulder. I turned to him, shoved him in the shoulder, and told him, “You don’t need to meddle in my life, okay? Go cuddle with Aksel if you want to do that, but stay the hell out of my love life!” He backed off, hands up in mock arrest, and he sauntered off to find his boyfriend Aksel. Probably to have a quickie in the nearest open room. God, he was insufferable. I just shook my head and left the station, getting back home in a few minutes. When I got there, Maus had already set everything up, even cleaned up. I hugged her then gave her a light kiss on top of her head. We sat down and ate as we talked. “Can I ask you something?” she posed, setting her fork down when she was finished. I gobbled the last bit of alfredo, wiped my mouth, and said, “Sure, anything Maus.” She shifted in her seat and looked me directly in the face. “Can I go to work tonight?”

“Where do you work tonight?” I knew she was a DJ and traveled around town for her gigs, so the only thing I was concerned about was where she would be working. “I’m working at the nightclub a few blocks from here. Yes, the gay one,” she admitted, reading my mind. I ran back and forth between the pros and cons of this scenario, but couldn’t make up my mind. “Let me think about it for now. What time do you have to be there?”

“Around seven. I’ll be there until 3. The prime club hours,” she told me, starting to eat the cake. I slid my piece of cake in front of me and picked it up, munching on a bite. “Alright. Do you mind if I think about it until I come back?”

“No, not at all. I know I kind of sprung it on you,” she said, swallowing a bite of cake. We finished lunch, and before I left, she hugged me firmly around the waist. “Be safe out there. I don’t . . . I’d do without you,” she mumbled into my chest, melting into me. I hugged her back, nuzzling my cheek onto her head. “I will. Take care, Maus. Thanks for lunch.” She pulled away and headed over to the couch where she opened her laptop and put on her headphones. I closed the door behind me, and heard a barely audible, “What is love?” I laughed as I walked back to my car and made my way to Mr. Jesse Swanson’s office.

********

I didn’t collect much information from the workers there, except that he was at a Starbucks the morning Aubrey died and that he was still pretty bitter about the legal loss. I still had to question him about his whereabouts and actions from September 18th, so that’s where I was at around four o’clock after he gave his lawyer a call. I never knew how insufferable two people could be until I saw Mr. Swanson, and his lawyer / blatant secret lover, Benji. One was constantly looking at the other when the one was speaking like they were mesmerized by the other person’s lips moving. For example, I asked the simple question, “Where were you on September 18th at 11:45?” Jesse answered simply, “I was on my way to the office after I got coffee,” though the entire time Benji was watching his lips and body language intensely as if he was imagining what else would happen with those lips. I internally cringed at the thought, but then thought of Pieter and Aksel. Why was almost everyone I knew gay? And how? The statistic is one in ten people are gay, but for me, it seems to be ten in ten people are gay. This concept boggled my mind so much, I barely paid attention to the interrogation.

“Where did you get coffee?” I asked, focusing back on the information I needed. Jesse sat forward, adjusting his posture, and said, “The Starbucks down the street from where the accident took place. I won’t deny that, but I was there at  _ 10 _ :45, not 11:45. Which is why I was on my way to the office at 11:45. You can check the security cameras at the office to show that I arrived around noon.” I nodded, taking in his statement, and wrote down the essential details. I straightened out and glanced at his lawyer, who was trying to secretly run his hand over Jesse’s thigh but failing because I could clearly see over the table. Benji nodded in agreement but didn’t rebut anything, which made me wonder why he was even here. I decided to get this last question out of the way so I could head home for the day. I looked back to Jesse, and asked, “Were you involved in the murder of Aubrey Conrad?” Jesse’s face went stolid and stern before he calmed himself down, and insistently retorted back, "Do you have any siblings or kids, Sergeant Meyer? Do you know what it's like to take care of them every day? Because I don't think you do, or else you wouldn't be questioning me right now. Aubrey was like a sister to me, I wouldn't do anything to hurt her."

I had no idea what to make of his question, but I breathed out, “Alright, Mr. Swanson. I just needed to ask the question. Okay, it seems that we’re done here. Another detective will be here to escort you two out.” I stood, shook both their hands, and headed toward the door. I just opened the door when I heard Jesse comment to Benji, “They should really check out that van, we’re within 500 yards of the elementary school. Oh, wait nevermind, it’s just the ice cream truck.” I left, thinking to myself, “God, why do people just assume things?” I collected my things, told Pieter I was leaving, then went home to prepare for the night ahead. I had decided Maus would be allowed to go to work, but I wasn’t letting her go alone.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter was very long, so I split it up into two. Sorry if it's left at an awkward point.

**Beca**

 

It’s been an hour since Luisa got home from work, and she’s been busy since. We ate dinner quickly, and then she retreated to her room for the remainder of the time. She told me I could go to work tonight, which I was happy for, and I started to get dressed for the occasion. I took a shower and got dressed in my skinny jeans with a plain white t-shirt. I wasn’t planning on doing anything special with my hair since my job didn’t require such elegance, but I left it down in waves. I grabbed my light brown jacket and put that on so it matched the neutral color of my black boots, and so I wouldn’t get cold. I packed my laptop in its bag with my headphones and the various cords I needed for tonight. I zipped the bag closed, and threw the strap over my shoulder, checking the time on my phone. 6:35. I had enough time to say goodbye to Luisa before I left, so I walked out into the living room. “Luisa! I’m leaving, I’ll be back around 3:15. See you later!” I yelled through the apartment, going to open the door to leave. I just placed my hand on the doorknob when I heard heels clicking, then a firm, “Not without protection.”

I turned around and beheld the epitome of sexiness. Luisa was wearing a black corset type top with a sweetheart neckline that had lace embellishments. The sleeves were off the shoulder, came down to about her mid forearm, and were loose, unlike the rest of her top, which clung tightly to every curve her body had and made her breasts almost entirely visible. She didn’t need any contour to make them look big, because damn. The corset came down a little ways, exposing her belly button and toned abs. The next article of clothing I detected was her black leather pants that were as tight as her top and revealed her defined calves and thighs. The pants also had zipper pockets, which I found amusing and wanted to continuously zip back and forth. She wore simple black heels to go with the entire ensemble, but they added the bit of eloquence needed for the entire outfit to be considered publicly decent. I must’ve been staring at her for quite some time because, by the time my eyes had prodded her body and got to her face, she was smirking and had an eyebrow raised. She was wearing a velvet choker with an easy ring of rhinestones in the center that contrasted with her deep red lipstick. The makeup around her eyes just accentuated the dark parts in her bright blue irises and brought out the vibrant color in them. Her hair was all curled and down around her shoulders, draping in beautiful blonde curls. I couldn’t help but get heated by looking at her, in my cheeks, in my chest, and in between my legs.

She was just standing there, hands on her hips and legs shoulder width apart, and she looked at me in a way that made my heart skip two beats. I felt myself start to pulse, and sweat form on my upper lip, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I tried pushing the ungodly thoughts out of my mind, but she placed them back with some even worse. We were telepathically exchanging dark fantasies of the other, hers being darker than mine. I thought of one in particular, and we seemed to be on the same page because of the way we gazed at each other.

_ Held to the bed by handcuffs, I couldn’t move from the position she had me in. In a kneeling position facing the window in her bedroom, my wrists were caught in metal chains, and she was behind me. One hand cupping my breast, the other three fingers deep, she kissed and bit at my neck almost savagely. Her hair was down over her shoulder and kind of tickled me. My head was tilted back onto her other shoulder and my back was pressed against her front, the heat and moisture building in my core. I bucked against my restraints and her hand as she bit hard at the base of my neck. She laughed, the humming reverberating in my neck, and her lips came to my ear, taunting, “Oh Maus. I knew you couldn’t resist.” _

I was broke from my daydream when Luisa repeated herself, “I knew you couldn’t resist.” Apparently, she knew what she was doing the whole time and somehow put me in a trance that distracted me from the task at hand. I shook my head, and said as normally as I could, “Let’s get going.” She started to walk toward me, then stopped, remembering to grab something. She went over to the table we ate at, and reached under, pulling a 22mm gun out of nowhere. I went wide-eyed and gasped as she unloaded the magazine, checked the barrel for any bullets, then loaded the magazine into a pocket at the side of her corset and the gun into the cavern between her breasts. She looked up at me when her weapon was concealed, and asked, “What’s wrong?” At a loss for words, I stuttered, “Y-You just put a  _ gun _ in your shirt! Aren’t you afraid it’ll go off?” She laughed and got to me in a few steps. “No. I put the safety on, and I made sure the gun was disarmed before placing it in the mountains that are my tits,” she said nonchalantly, opening the door to me. I stepped out, walking under her arm, and turned back to her. My eyes focused on her chest and all I thought about was how she could find the place for a gun in there. She caught my attention with a grip on my chin, forcing my gaze up to her eyes. “My eyes are up here Maus, but that doesn’t mean you can’t stare.”

We walked out to her car, her warning me, “Tell anyone of this encounter, and I will hunt you down myself.” She pointed at me with her forefinger for dramatic effect, and I noticed that her fingernails were painted the same shade of red her lips were. We got into her car, she was driving, and I placed my bag in the back seat. I buckled my seatbelt and looked to her as she buckled hers as well. She started the car, putting it in reverse, and lifted herself off the seat to turn around and look out the back window for any obstacles as she backed out. Her right hand planted itself on the console between us while her left hand navigated the vehicle in fluid motions. “Excuse me, Maus,” she told me jokingly when she looked down at me and saw that her chest was in my face. I peered down her corset, saw the gun she had tucked away, and realized she wasn’t wearing a bra. My jaw dropped at the idea of the top falling down the slightest bit and exposing her full chest to everyone. She started down the road, and said, “I could handcuff you to the seat right now if you think it would help, Maus.” I snapped my gaze from her gloriousness to the car door next to me, admitting, “I think that would make me late, and make me want you to touch me.” I hit myself in the forehead with my palm once I realized what I said. All she did was laugh, and tease, “It’s fine, Maus. You’ve told me many times, but you were asleep so I don’t think that counts.” She patted the inside of my leg, and I tensed at the sudden rush of heat.

She laughed again, glanced at my reddened face, and just left her hand on my thigh. I looked completely flustered, though deep down I knew I loved it, knew I loved  _ her _ . There was no question about it. I tried to be discreet about the way I showed my affections, and so far it’s worked. She constantly thinks I’m just lonely when I crawl into bed next to her, but honestly, I sleep with her because she’s gentle when she holds me tightly. She’s done for me what most people in my life haven’t been able to do: protect me. No matter what it was from. My nightmares, the dangers of the outside world, and even myself. She knew when I was feeling scared of anything, and now that she knew what my father did to me so many years ago, she knew when I needed someone to talk to. But she’s only known me for three weeks. Stacie’s known me for six years, and still can’t tell when I wanted to be alone or when I desperately needed someone else. From the moment I called her after the break-in, I’ve trusted her with my life. She knew how hard it was for me to trust anyone, let alone a cop, and she demolished all of my fear and anxiety with one action. That action was her caring. She cared about the insignificant details to my personality like no one else has. The only reason I pushed her away that time she tried to cuddle with me after our date is because I was scared of falling in love. I was scared of getting hurt by someone I trusted, so I pushed her away to try and see if I could live without her. Turns out, I couldn’t. I instantly regretted it the next day, when I got sick and required her to help me. I didn’t know how much I was thinking about her until I felt her lips on mine and her hands on either side of my face, angling my head to hers.

We had arrived at the club, and she had gotten me to get out, grabbing my bag in the process. She recognized that I was gone in my thoughts, and knew the only way to bring me back was physical contact of some sort. When I didn’t respond to her light shakes, she reverted to kissing me right there in the middle of the sidewalk. I came back to reality in a matter of seconds, and she looked into my eyes for some time before she released my face and grabbed my hand. She pulled me toward the entrance to the club, and I suddenly realized what was happening. I caught up with her so she didn’t have to drag me, and I got out my ID badge for the bouncer to recognize me with. Since I was the DJ, I was allowed one guest every time I worked this club and tonight, my guest was the person I truly loved. We got to the bouncer, who I knew was Cynthia-Rose. She took one look at me and Luisa, and told me, “Go on with your bad self, Becs. If your friend here wants a drink, tell the bartender she’s with you, and she’ll get endless rounds.” I winked back at Luisa, then said, “Thanks, Tia-Ro. I’ll be sure to get her some.” I squeezed Luisa’s hand as we walked in and she came up behind me, grabbing my waist. I led her through the crowd at the dark entrance, where we felt the bass pounding through the floor, and brought her up to the DJ station. The previous DJ was just packing up their things when we got up there, and I quickly got set up, removing my jacket and tossing it on the couch behind me.

I turned to Luisa, who was standing there fairly rigidly, and handed her my ID badge, advising her, “If you want to fit in, then you have to loosen up a bit. Go get a drink, dance, and let go.” She smirked down at me, smoothed a piece of hair behind my ear, and told me, “Alright. But you better play some damn good beats if you want to see me dance.” I glared at her as she turned around and headed back down to the dance floor, stopping by the bar to get what looked like a whiskey straight up. She gulped that down, and I introduced myself like I typically did. “What’s up party people?!” I said into the microphone. I got a large scream from the crowd below, Luisa visibly cringing at the volume. “It’s your DJ Twinkle Toes here, and boy do I have some sick mash-ups for you tonight.” Another ear-splitting screech erupted from the crowd, and I noticed Luisa on the outskirts, trying her best to fit in. “Alright, alright. Let’s get this partay started!” I yelled, hitting play on my laptop to start the mash-up of “Where Them Girls At” and “Run The World”. I held one headphone up to my ear as I listened for anything I needed to change in the moment, and watched as Luisa struggled to keep up with the rest of the crowd’s erotic moves. I kind of laughed at her failed attempts to do the Dugee and the Whip. She must have realized she wasn’t getting it so she went back to the bar and got another drink. As she sipped her whiskey, she looked at me disapprovingly. I gave her a smug smirk in return, then came up with an idea to get her in the center of the action.


	11. Chapter 11

**Beca**

 

 

I wasn’t planning on doing this until later that night, but all she was doing was sitting at the bar drinking whiskey. So I got back on the microphone after my third mash-up was over, and said, “Now, let’s throwback to some of the original club music with a bit of a twist. This is for the millennials out there that crave to be back in their time.” With that, Luisa looked at me attentively, set her drink down on the counter, and casually stood, cracking her neck. I licked my lips and hit play, the beginning to the mash-up resounding, “What is love . . . Wh-wh-what is love? Baby don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me no more.” Then the instrumental to the song, “Never Gonna Give You Up” began playing, and Luisa lost it. She fell into rhythm immediately, bouncing to the beat perfectly. Everyone around her noticed, and crowded around her, trying to follow her moves. She popped and locked this way and that, feeling the beat and coordinating dances with it. By the end of the song, she was caught in the middle of the dance mob, eyes closed and still moving to the imaginary beat. I let the next song autoplay since it fit with the throwback jams I was going for. “Material Girl” began playing, and suddenly the lyrics to the song “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” were being sung. The lyrics and music changed as the bass line did, but Luisa kept at her dancing.

Just because I thought it would be funny, I pulled out my phone, zoomed in on Luisa, and took a couple of pictures. I reviewed the pictures I got, laughing at the funny ones. I came across one where she had her tongue sticking slightly out and her eyebrows were raised as she was mouthing, “Material girl” I laughed for a second before going back to my camera to take more pictures. The song ended, and the next mash-up was the most sexual of the four I had created. Lance Bass came in with the lyrics to “Tearin’ Up My Heart” and Justin Timberlake’s beat to “Rock Your Body” followed not too long after. Luisa’s moves changed to match the obviously slower but more sensuous beat, her hips moving tantalizingly slow. She looked up to me and caught me taking pictures, though I was trying to be sneaky about it. She smirked the most evil smirk I’ve ever seen from anyone, making my heart pound with the beat, and slightly bit her lower lip before she licked her upper teeth. I was frozen with my phone in my hands, watching Luisa get dirty. She ran her hands through her hair, dropping low. She got as low as she could, spread her legs, and teased her way back up, swaying her hips to get spark something from me. I took about five different pictures from that move, and did my best to hold my composure for the next move. I was still biting my lip as she raised her arms in the air and lightly grinded against an invisible person.

I thought of myself being that invisible person, and feeling her hips against mine in a way that is not at all professional. She rolled her hips a few more times, making sure I got clear pictures of her abs, and made a tongue movement at me. A goddamn tongue movement like she was going to eat me out or something. I snapped at least fifteen pictures from that stunt, and then the song ended. I looked to see what the next mash-up was, and was glad to see it was “It’s Raining Men” and “One Way Or Another” because one way or another, it was going to be raining men up in here, especially over Luisa. These men were mostly gay, but the ones that came to this club basically worshipped people who could dance so well, even if they were a lesbian. I found myself smiling at Luisa’s reaction to the people that surrounded her. She became slightly paranoid, but continued to dance like nothing was wrong. She didn’t really try anything during this song, but I kept a close eye on her for any photo-op moments. I started to bounce to the steady beat of the song as it was building to a massive bass drop, and I placed my phone down next to my laptop. I looked back at Luisa, who was so close to other women I actually got a bit jealous. She wasn’t looking at me because her eyes were closed and she was just bobbing to the music. 

I was thinking of her when I was grabbed violently from behind, a hand clasped over my mouth, and one gripping my bicep viciously. I froze when I heard them say, “Don’t move or say anything and you won’t get hurt.” Tears scorched my eyes as thoughts of being killed or seriously injured began flooding my mind. He removed his hand from my mouth, and I felt the barrel of a gun being pressed to my back, me whimpering in response. I didn’t know what else to do, so I did as he said. I didn’t scream, and I didn’t try to fight back. My fear of kidnapping or rape just became as real as my love for Luisa while I was forced down from the DJ station and toward the back of the club, where there was a door that led to an alley. I could still hear the music in the background of my terrifying thoughts as we headed for the exit. I remembered there was a moment of silence before the bass dropped, and I thought if I could warn Luisa during that time, she would come save me from the nightmare about to happen. It would be a risk since the guy could tear my guts out with the pull of a trigger, but I decided to scream when the silence came. We were nearly at the door, and the silence was present. I hurriedly shrieked, “Luisa!” while tears coated my face in fear, and terror.

The guy that kidnapped me changed his grip from my arm to my neck, cutting off my air supply. “You’re gonna wish you hadn’t done that missy,” he hissed, pulling me out into a busy sidewalk street. He loosened his grip on my neck to appear normal as he pushed me down the street to what I thought was going to be some sort of van. We got halfway down the street when I knew Luisa had heard me. I heard two gunshots go off from the club, and people began to rush out. The guy who had me made me move faster, and we came to a van. It wasn’t one of the stereotypical white vans people think of when one is kidnapped, it was more like a hatchback van, but it was still creepy. He pushed me against the back of it, came close behind me, and I thought for sure I was going to be raped. All he did was tie my wrists together, and tie a scarf in my mouth so I couldn’t scream anymore. Tears continued to fall from my eyes as he opened the back of the van and shoved me in. I landed on my face, but I readjusted myself to be sitting against the wall of the car, out of sight so he wouldn’t be able to look at me. I cried for a second longer, and I heard three more gunshots. I didn’t know who was shooting or who was shot until all I heard was the sounds of my whimpering and gasping. I curled into a ball, burying my face in my knees to try and wake up from this nightmare.

Then I heard the heavenly voice from my dream speak to me. “Maus? Where are you?” Luisa had come for me, and she wasn’t dead. I freaked out for a second, not believing my ears, and waited to see if she would say something else. What came next was a hurt and terrified voice asking, “Maus? Where are you?” I struggled to find the breath to shout, “Luisa! Please help me!” All I heard from myself was white noise, but it was apparently enough for her to find me. Suddenly, the door was opened, and the light from the Atlanta street poured in, blinding me momentarily. I blinked a few times before I could see Luisa’s blue eyes in front of me, her searching for an explanation to all this. She set her gun down, barrel pointed away from me, and inched closer to me to untie me from my restraints. I tried to move so she could free me from the scarves that were holding me together, but she already had them undone and was onto the cloth preventing my speech. She got that undone, and I was immediately pulled into a hug. She lifted me up to her by my waist, and I wrapped my arms around her neck, crying into her shoulder. My legs found their way around her body, clinging desperately to the only thing in my life I could depend on.

She pulled me closer, if that was even possible, and whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Maus. I’m sorry.” I could feel her tears on my shoulder as we both cried until an ambulance and a police squad pulled up behind us. She continued to soothe me with her hand running down my back while she turned around, flashing her badge to the officer that came up to her. She didn’t have to hold me to her because my ninja grip was doing the trick. The man that kidnapped me, and the man Luisa shot three times in the leg to save me, was placed under arrest, then taken to the hospital to be treated for the bullets holes. I clung tighter to Luisa as I felt someone else try to remove me from her. “It’s fine, Pieter. I can hold her for as long as she wants me to,” Luisa stated, supporting me with her arms underneath me. Pieter backed off, going to go check on something else. I was able to catch my breath and stop my crying enough to pull back a little, asking Luisa, “C-Can we go home now?” She smiled a little before responding, “Yes we can Maus. I’ll have Pieter go back to the club and get your laptop and such.” She gave me a light kiss as she started to carry me back to her car. She informed Pieter of his instructions and he followed us back to the club, but we went to Luisa’s car and he went into the club. I assume he explained the situation to the manager because the manager came out and waved, shouting, “Night Twinkle Toes! Feel Better!”

Luisa had set me in the passenger seat and hurried to get in the driver’s seat. She quickly started the car, holding my hand, and we got home soon after that. I hobbled to the couch, laid down, and curled into a ball, still shaking with fear. Luisa was by my side almost immediately, asking, “Is there anything you want me to do, Maus?” I gazed into her eyes, conveying my deepest emotions to her, and responded, “Protect me, Luisa.” Over the past few weeks, “Protect me” has been code for, “Undress me, take me to bed, and sleep with me. But also hold me tightly and make me forget what I’m worrying about.” And that’s exactly what she did. She picked me up, carried me to her bed, and set me gently on the edge of her bed. She removed my clothes one by one, starting with my boots and finishing with my shirt. She got one of her shirts from her dresser and pulled it over my head. She moved me between the sheets, tucked me in, and got herself ready for bed. A few minutes later, she slid in the bed next to me, and I nearly threw myself at her. I clung to her like I had about fifteen minutes ago, my legs straddling her waist and arms grabbing at her neck. My face found itself in the crook of her neck as she stroked my back, her other hand resting comfortably on my lower back. I thought over the events of the night, and started crying again.

She felt a few of my tears, and whispered, “Calm down, Maus. I’m here to protect you now. No one will take you from me.” I doubted all she was saying was true, but the promise lying within her prose helped to ease my shot nerves. I snuggled closer to her, and she asked, “Would you like me to sing something to help you fall asleep?” I nodded, curious as to what Luisa sounded like when she was singing because I hadn’t heard her before. She breathed in deeply before starting, “Oh, her eyes, her eyes, make the stars look like they’re not shining. Her hair, her hair falls perfectly without her trying. She’s so beautiful, and I tell her every day.” I recognized the song to be Bruno Mars’s “Just The Way You Are” and recalled the soft melody. She went through the whole song, her voice sounding like an angel calling to me from the heavens above, and I eventually eased up enough for me to feel tired. I yawned, lifted myself off of her, and turned her head toward mine with my hand on her cheek. She covered my hand with hers, and kissed my palm before she told me, “Go to sleep Maus. You need the rest.” She moved my hand to her shoulder, her hand sliding down my arm, and kissed my forehead as I laid back down on her. It didn’t take more than a few minutes later for me to fall asleep, her heartbeat as soothing as her touch.

As I later found out, Luisa clearly heard me in the club. She tried searching for me at the DJ station and bar before she had to take drastic measures. She attempted to push through the crowd, but they wouldn’t move, so she whipped out her gun, quickly loaded it, and fired off two warning shots. She flashed her badge to everyone, explaining, “Sergeant Luisa Meyer of the Atlanta PD! Move the hell out of my way!” She got out before everyone else fled in a crowd, which would’ve made it impossible to find her way out of. She climbed on top of her car that was across the street, and searched for the street for my white shirt and skinny jeans. She spotted me about a block down, and basically sprinted as fast as she could in the heels she was wearing. By the time she got within shooting distance of the man she saw me with, I was nowhere to be found, and the guy had spotted her, pulling his gun on her. She aimed her gun at his legs and fired three rounds into his thigh and shins. He fell to the ground clutching his bleeding legs, and Luisa handcuffed him. “Maus . . . ?”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter is a bit slow. Everything is fairly stale before all hell breaks loose.

**Luisa**

 

The rush of emotions I felt the next Monday morning were definitely different than anything I’ve felt in the past decade. The first one was fear. Fear that my Maus was actually taken from me, and I hadn’t saved her. The next one was relief when I found her wrapped in my arms asleep. The one after that and one of the most prominent was rage. I was furious with the guy that tried to kidnap her, and I could barely hold my temper when I thought of him. Maus would have to kiss me to calm me down because that was the only way she knew how to. Every time we kissed now, I felt the last emotion that I hadn’t been able to feel in almost ten years: love. I was up all last night thinking about this concept which has plagued my life but has also given it new meaning with Maus. I am in love. With Maus. I’m in love with Maus. I love Maus. I love her. I stopped at my realization and thought over what I had to do that day. The first was to interrogate that mother fucker I shot. Then I would go from there. Once deciding my course of action, I set to getting started. I went to get out of the bed to get ready for work, but Maus caught me by my shirt, whining, “Please don’t go.”

I removed her hand, kissed her palm, then said, “I have to. But you’re welcome to come with me.” I placed her hand back on the pillow, and stood up, brushing her hair out of her face. She opened her eyes and huffed out a breath. She sat up, yawning, and stretched out, her stomach showing a little. I saw her belly button, and poked at it, eliciting a giggle from her. She pushed my hand away and covered her stomach with her arms to prevent me from tickling her anymore. She got out of bed, and we got dressed, forgoing breakfast. We headed to the station after picking up coffee, and we walked in hand in hand. She brought her laptop so she could work on some new mashups while I’m working on other things, and she held my hand tightly, moving closer to my side. I understood her fear of being in a police station, and I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, still holding her hand. She let me lead her through the other detectives’ desks to my office, where we both set our bags down and she sat down in my chair. I laughed a bit because she looked like a child in my oversized office chair, and she just got flustered, folding her arms across her chest as her face heated up. She leaned back in the chair, grimaced at me, then looked away to seem disinterested.

I stepped toward her, patted her head, and planted a kiss on the top of her head with the tease, “You’re still cute, Maus.” She looked at me with a half smile, which is the best she could come up with on a Monday morning and sat back up. “Alright, Maus. If you need me, I’ll most likely be down the hall in interrogation so knock twice on the door and I can let Pieter take over. Then I’ll be free to help you. Got it?” She nodded and pulled out her laptop to begin working on her things. “Great. I’ll leave the door open,” I walked out with my coffee, and glanced back once to see her with her headphones on, sipping her coffee. I continued on my way to interrogation, where my perp was waiting to be verbally smacked down. I opened the door, and a wave of anger overtook me for a brief second as I saw the scumbag I was to interview. I squeezed the door handle to calm myself down, then calmly walked to the other side of the table. The guy watched me with anticipation, assuming I’d smack him across the face, and he avoided eye contact, instead staring down at the chains holding him to the table. I stood firmly, read the file on the table Pieter slid to me, and then started, “What were you doing that night at the club?”

“I-I was just p-partying, like you were,” the man answered unconvincingly. I could tell Pieter was shocked to hear I was partying, but I continued anyway. “Like hell you were. Now tell me the real reason you were there before I arrest you for obstruction of justice and kidnapping.” The guy looked around frantically, sensing how agitated I was becoming, and dared to say, “I swear! I was only there to get lucky!” I couldn’t hold my temper anymore so I picked up the chair in front of me one-handed, and threw it against the wall to my right, denting the metal frame. I heaved out a heavy breath, pointed my finger at him, and snapped, “That is complete bullshit! Tell me why you were at the club that night, and why you tried to kidnap my Maus!” I was getting overly protective in the nastiest way, and the guy, whose name was Kent Hicks, seemed to know I wasn’t going to take any more of his fuckery. I slammed my hands back on the table, and he started to ramble, “Okay! Okay! I’ll tell you! I was there that night to, as you say, kidnap your Maus.”

I hadn’t realized I called Beca my Maus until Kent pointed it out, but I quickly disregarded it to inquire, “Why did try to kidnap her?!” My voice was harsh and echoed off the walls, making me seem more intimidating than I actually was. Kent shrank back in his seat, and shouted, “I was going to be paid to go to that club and kidnap DJ Twinkle Toes, and take her to some warehouse!”

“What warehouse?”

“The one on the other side of town! The one that manufactured crayons!”

“Who was going to pay you?! Who told you to kidnap Twinkle Toes?!”

“I-I-I don’t know! They messaged me saying they’d pay me 5,000 dollars to kidnap her or else I’d be turned into the police!”

“Who were you messaging?”

“I don’t know their name, but I do know their username.”

“What is it?!” I screamed, my anger not diminishing. He struggled to spew out the name that was on the tip of his tongue, but he eventually found his voice.

“Br-BreeBaby.” My eyes locked on him as I recalled the username as the person who was harassing Stacie and Aubrey years ago and connected the dots. BreeBaby was Aubrey’s murderer, and their motive was hatred. They hated Aubrey, her business, and her wife so much they concocted a plan to kill her. While that didn’t help narrow it down, we knew who to search for. “How can we find BreeBaby?!” I demanded, slamming my hands back down on the table. He jumped at the loud sound, and sputtered, “I-I-I don’t know, I’m sorry!” Rage overtook me again, and I shot straight up, looking for something to distract me. I found the chair I threw across the room, and I walked over to it. I picked it up and smashed it against the wall next to me. The leg got bent, and it fell to the ground, slightly broken. I looked up to Pieter, who was gaping at me wide-eyed along with Kent, and huffed out, “Scheiße, sorry.” I rubbed my eyes with one hand while the other held my hip for some leverage. There were two knocks at the door, and I knew Maus was there. I pointed to Kent, explaining to Pieter, “Finish this, I’ll be back.”

I walked to the door, stepped out, and turned around, asking as calmly as possible, “What—mnph?” I didn’t finish my question before Maus had kissed me, pulling me down by my face. All other raging emotions faded from existence, and there was only love. I placed my hands on her waist, and we pulled away, peace taking over me. “I thought you could use something to calm down,” Maus whispered, caressing my cheek softly. “Yes, I did. Thank you.” She winked at me, then said, “My pleasure.” We removed ourselves from each other reluctantly, and Pieter came out the door behind me. “This a police station, not a romantic comedy,” he teased, seeing our embrace. I glared at him, then pushed on his chest, sending him back a couple steps. He tried to look hurt but just looked offended. “Anyway, I thought you might want to know that we were able to trace the username after some toying with the message board Kent was talking about.”

“Oh really? Where did you track it to?”

“Aubrey’s desktop at her office.” The news shocked me, but I began instructing detectives on what they were going to do. “Pieter, you come with me to her office to see if anyone knows anything about the messages. Cole, you see about getting a warrant for the security tapes in her office specifically. Ramsey, you get in contact with Mrs. Conrad and ask about BreeBaby. And Graves . . . just . . . don’t fuck up, okay?” Graves turned around in his chair, gave me a thumbs up since he was chowing down on shrimp lo mein, and went back to watching  _ World’s Deadliest Car Crashes _ . Ramsey picked up the phone, and then asked, “Which Mrs. Conrad, Sarge?”

I nearly hit my head on the wall for his stupidity, and responded, “Unless you can see dead people, I suggest you go with the Conrad that’s still breathing.” I rubbed my face with my hand and breathed out as relieved myself of the idiocy in this department. It was a wonder how we got cases solved. I walked to my office, pulling Maus along with me, and grabbed my keys. I gave Maus her red leather jacket and dragged her along to my car. Pieter followed behind us, wondering why Maus was coming but didn’t press the matter when I gave him the “Don’t Even Start” expression. I let Maus climb in the passenger seat, and got in the driver’s side, forcing Pieter to sit in the back. Maus looked at me, asking, “Why am I sitting up front? He’s clearly bigger.” Pieter agreed, and elaborated, “Yeah, why does Maus get to sit up front? She’s not your best friend in the world.” I hesitated before I said, “I can’t protect her if she’s not within reach,” actually wanting to say, “She’s my everything in the world.” They both left it at that, and sat back in their seats, crossing their arms in front of their chest. They both resembled children with their pouty faces, and I caved. “Fine, you can switch places on the way back.” They cheered up, Maus turning on the radio, and the song “Cake By The Ocean” blaring through the speakers.

********

The office was almost like any other office, but a lot more open space because there were no cubicles. The three of us made our way to the floor Aubrey’s personal office was on, and man did it make for an interesting elevator ride. There were a few other people in our car, and Maus felt so awkward, she curled into my side, almost burrowing herself in my suit jacket. If anyone didn’t know any better, they’d had thought the three of us were a family, with Pieter and I as the parents and Maus as the socially isolated teenager getting out for the first time. I chuckled at the thought but proceeded to Aubrey’s office with Maus still holding onto my waist. Her office was fairly empty, except for her cluttered desk, and few filing cabinets. The walls were made of glass with Hunter Douglas shades to give some privacy. I looked around for a few minutes, then my phone rang. Stacie was calling me. I answered it, “Hallo, Stacie.”

“Hey, Sergeant Meyer. I was just calling to tell you a few things.” A woman who appeared to be Hispanic walked into the room, introducing herself, “Good Morning officers. My name is Florencia, but you may call me Flo.”

“Okay, can you hold on for a second Stacie?” I asked Stacie, trying to focus on two different things.

“Yeah, sure take all the time you need.” I turned back to Flo and paid attention to what she was saying. “I’m Aubrey’s assistant, and Mr. Swanson has sent me to help you with anything you may need,” she explained, gesturing to me and Pieter. I nodded, looked to Pieter for him to begin. He thought for a second, then said, “Who has access to this computer?” Flo gave simple answers, which were very helpful. “Aubrey and her wife Stacie.” That intrigued me because the messages were sent from this computer, meaning Stacie would’ve had to have sent those messages. I hurriedly asked Pieter, “Do you remember when those messages were sent?” He glanced at his phone, and responded, “Last Wednesday. Between noon and two pm.” I tuned back into my phone conversation with Stacie but put it on speaker phone. “Stacie, where were you last Wednesday between noon and two?”

“At Aubrey’s office. Why do you ask?”

“Well, long story short. The person that tried to kidnap Ma—Beca was talking to BreeBaby through a message board, and the messages were tracked to the computer in Aubrey’s office that only you and she had access to.”

“Beca was nearly kidnapped? Is she alright?”

“Ja, Stacie. I have her right here.” I looked down to Maus, who looked to be asleep under my arm. I kissed the top of her head out of habit and went back to the conversation. “Okay, but I couldn’t have sent those messages because I wasn’t even on her computer during that time. I was in the break room with Flo until, like, 2:15 when I had to leave.”

“Is that correct?” I looked to Flo, who simply answered, “Yes. We talked for hours about baby names, and I shared with her a story of how babies in Tia Juana are selected for the secret police.” I didn’t know whether to be concerned that she was making light of a third world problem I didn’t know was true or not or be concerned with how she knew or thought of it. I just awkwardly let my mouth hang open for a good ten seconds before I said, “Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiight. I think we’re good for today, thank you for your help Flo.” I hung up with Stacie, and Maus, Pieter and I went back to the car. She was sitting in the backseat, half asleep, and suddenly she blurted out, “I told you, Luisa! No touching me until I’ve finished my Pop Tarts!” Pieter looked at me strangely, an eyebrow arched in confusion. I shook my head, looked at Maus through the rear view mirror, and told him, “Don’t even ask.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luisa's Past and an Argument of Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I was a bit twisted when I wrote this.
> 
> I suggest listening to the song "Sirens" by Cher Lloyd for a good experience. (Liable to draw tears)
> 
> Warnings:
> 
> Rape/Non-Con

**Luisa**

 

_ “Luisa?! Where are you?! Luisa! Please help! Luisa! Luisa! Luis—ahhh! No! No! Stop! Please!” My sister’s voicemail was the only thing I had left of her after that fateful night. That night when I wasn’t there to protect her, that night when she was raped and murdered, that night when my entire family was taken from me. I didn’t know what was happening until I heard the voicemail my sister left before she was violated. I heard the panic and fear in her voice and nearly knocked over my desk trying to get to my car. At that time, I was only a detective with almost no credentials, and this was my first big case, my first chance to show I had something to offer. I was only 26 and still naive to most things in the world. Especially to what life as a police officer was like in the homicide department. Two months prior to that night, my older sister, Mina, called me in the middle of the night saying she had seen something she probably shouldn’t have and that she thought she was being followed. Thus, the murder case of the mayor of Atlanta was opened, with my older sister as the lead witness. In order to protect her, I placed her under witness protection at our parents' house where there were plenty of other people to act as a guise. _

_ I drove to the house, speeding most of the way, and rushed inside. What I found were the bloody remains of my parents, brothers, and Mina. The rug in the center of the living room was blood-stained, surrounded by various pools of blood. The furniture was either broken, gory, or both, all unsuitable to sit on. I pulled my gun from its holster, held it at shoulder level, and walked through the living room, being careful to not step on the corpses which covered the ground. My hands shook as I struggled to keep my breathing steady and keep tears from blinding my vision. I peered through the dark dining room, spotted no one, then continued to the kitchen. I looked through the door frame and saw a familiar figure standing there, shirtless and eating a sandwich. The man turned around, saw me, and greeted me, “Hey, Luisa! Remember me?” I kept my gun pointed at his chest as I gritted through my teeth and tears, “How could I forget?” The man standing before me was Konstantin Littmann, my parents’ neighbor. He was older than me by about five years and was about Mina’s age. He had short black hair and some facial hair. When he stood before me, his chest and body were laced with dried blood, and he had scratch marks across his chest. _

_ “Oh, well, then again, it is pretty hard to forget the man you seduced to convince yourself you were straight. Not like his heart mattered to you,” he snarled, taking a bite of his sandwich. I had to admit to myself he was right about that. Ever since the moment I first slept with him when I was 15, I knew I was lying to everyone, even myself. I used him to convince myself I was straight because I was too afraid of what my parents and siblings would say about me being gay. I knew it was wrong to lead him into thinking we were more than friendly neighbors, but I couldn’t stand to break his heart. That was until he told me he loved me. I freaked out and told Mina about everything. The “study sessions” I was having with him which were basically hookups, the fact that he took my virginity, and the fact that I was gay. She accepted my sexuality, but kind of scolded me for my involvement with an older man. She advised me to break off the relationship with Konstantin, and explain everything to our parents. I knew she was right, and I took her advice, breaking it off with Konstantin and telling my parents. Konstantin was arrested the next day for statutory rape. I may have been 16 before we ended, but he still slept with me before I was of consenting age, which was what got him arrested. _

_ “You know I never meant to hurt you,” I said, trying to stay strong in front of him. He looked directly at me, and shouted, “That doesn’t mean it didn’t, Luisa!” I could’ve pulled the trigger right then, and shot him, but police protocol only gave me the right to shoot him if I was in danger of being killed. And since I wasn’t, I couldn’t do anything else but lower my gun and place it back in my holster, saying, “I’m sorry, Konstantin. I really am. I was stupid and afraid—” _

_ “You don’t think I was afraid?! I was willingly having sex with a teenager who was underage, and you were afraid?!” He finished his sandwich and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Know what? I can’t deal with this anymore! I wanted to explain to you what I did, but I’m just going to kill you now,” he yelled, pointing a gun at my forehead. I reached for my gun, but he put his finger on the trigger, stopping me. “No, no, no. Hand it over,” he warned, pulling my gun off of me and holding it in his other hand. My body tensed, tears fell from my eyes, and I feared for my life. He saw my reactions and simply told me, “I knew you’d learn your place eventually. Now, we’re going to go into the living room, and I’m going to tell you in full details of what I’ve done to your precious family that ruined my life.” _

_ He turned me around, the gun to the back of my head, and pushed me into the living room, forcing me to sit down on the ottoman across from the chair he sat down in. He lowered the gun onto the end table next to him, the barrel still pointed toward me. He gingerly crossed his legs, folded his hands together in his lap, and stared at me. I noticed that his pants were unbuttoned and unzipped, and I knew what he was going to describe. “Your sister,” he started, “Mina, is it? Well, when she caught me that night two months ago, I knew I had to kill her. Then I found out she was your sister and the one who warned the police about me. I just couldn’t let her live with the kind of information she had, so I tracked her down, but that wasn’t hard for me because you were dumb enough to put her across the street! Man, did I have a fun time with her. Especially tonight. Would you like to know about it?” _

_ “No, I wouldn’t,” I choked out, holding back tears. _

_ “Awww. Well, too bad. I want to see you suffer as I tell you of how I violated her in front of your entire family, then made her watch me kill them all,” he growled, leaning forward in his seat. I could smell the alcohol on his breath as he got close to my ear, and whispered, “I’d rather show you.” My fight or flight response kicked in, and before he could get his hand inside my pants, I shoved him back into the chair, standing quickly. He was off the chair in seconds, looking down at me, and he smacked me across the face when he saw the spite in my eyes. He grabbed hold of my neck but didn’t choke me, and I held his hands with both of mine, hoping he didn’t kill me. Instead, he slid the scarf I had on off and held my wrists together as he tied them. I didn’t know what he was doing until he sat me back down and stuffed a cloth in my mouth to prevent my speech. He was going to explain everything he could to me, starting with my sister’s rape. He sat back down and recited his actions like he was telling a twisted and fucked up story to children. “I wasn’t going to do it until I found her in the bathroom on the phone. She was calling you, begging you to come save her and your family, but you didn’t pick up. She tried leaving a voicemail, but as you may know, I walked in on her and got pissed. I pulled her out of the bathroom while she was screaming her head off, and when she wouldn’t stop screaming, I tied a bandana over her mouth, and made her choke on it so she couldn’t talk.” _

_ “Then I tied her wrists together behind her back so she couldn’t stop me if she wanted to, but she did get a few good scratches on me as you can tell. I took her down here to the living room where everyone else was tied up, and laid her down on the ottoman you’re sitting on.” I thought of my sister, helpless and scared, and being forced onto her back in front of this creep, and I started crying. He just went on, “I ripped her clothes off her, and got her down to her black lace bra and matching panties, just like the ones you wore for me eleven odd years ago. She tried to get away, but I had already pinned her down by her hips. She looked so much like you, I couldn’t help myself. I got off from the way she cried so profoundly, pretending she didn’t like it. When I pulled out, she just laid there crying, refusing to look me in the eyes. I couldn’t understand why she wasn’t praising me for my good work like you did, and I lost it. I forced her up by her neck and turned her around to your family. I made her stand there and watch as I pulled my gun out and shot everyone in your family one by one. Once I killed your mother, I sat down in this exact chair with her in my lap. I pulled the scarf from her mouth and asked her ‘Any last words?’ I positioned the gun under her chin, and gave her the most innocent look I had while she said, ‘Burn in Hell.’ I was quite done with dealing with this fuckery, so I told her, ‘I think your sister will’ and pulled the trigger.” _

********

I woke up in a cold sweat, the sound of a bullet ringing through my ears. My breathing was as fast as it was when I was running, and I couldn’t tell where I was. I looked around the room for familiar objects, but I only found my glasses. I put those on and realized Maus wasn’t in bed next to me. The bathroom was empty, and I was the only one in the bedroom. Maus had gone to bed with me, but where was she now? I decided to get up and investigate as a way to distract myself from the nightmare I just had. I’ve had the same nightmare for the past week since Maus was nearly kidnapped, and every time I thought about it, I imagined Maus in Mina’s position. I immediately tried to shake the thoughts from my mind, but they always came back. I couldn’t help but worry about her every day I left for work, leaving her alone without protection. I heard a jingling from the kitchen and decided that was the best course of action. I walked out in just my bra and athletic shorts, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and saw Maus stopped dead in her tracks. She was fully dressed and heading to the door for some reason. I gawked at her in the darkness of the apartment, and asked, “What the fuck are you doing?” She must’ve sensed that I wasn’t in any mood for bullshit, so she responded honestly, “Going to the store.”

“At two in the morning?” I yawned, my eyebrows pulled together in confusion. She rocked back and forth on her heels and held onto the strap to her bag as she mumbled, “Yes.” I shook my head, motioned for her to come back to bed, and told her, “No, you’re not. It’s way too early, and I really don’t want to go to the store right now.” She stamped her feet, earnestly stating, “Yes, I am Luisa, and you don’t have to come with me.” I stared her down vigorously before my temper heated up and I snapped, “Yes, I do! You’re not leaving!”

“Why can’t I leave? I’m only going to the store!” She stepped toward me, keeping her distance.

“There’s too much of a risk of someone seeing you!” At this point, my anger was getting confused with my fear and I was starting to sound like I was pleading.

“So what if they see me?”

“If the wrong people see you, you could be killed! And I wouldn’t be there to protect you!” I shouted, covering my face with my hand to prevent her from seeing the tears forming in my eyes. Images of Beca’s dead body in place of Mina’s flooded my mind, and I couldn’t stop the tears that escaped.

“Why does it matter to you if I’m killed?! Besides solving this goddamn case?!” My emotions became too much for me to handle, and tears poured from my eyes as I thought over why she mattered so much to me. The first and only reason was that I loved her and couldn’t stand to even think about her getting hurt. In a sudden rush of overwhelming emotions, I divulged, “I can’t let someone else I love die because I wasn’t there to protect them!” I removed my hand from my face and saw the realization on her face at what I said. She stared at me with watery eyes, flushed cheeks, and her mouth was open like she was going to say something. I wasn’t about to hear some lame ass excuse for her to go, so I just hit fuck it. “Know what? It’s fine, you wouldn’t understand anyway. Go, if you want to,” I waved off and went back to my room. I sat at the edge of my bed, removed my glasses, and wept into my hand. I sat there for a few minutes before I heard my door creak open. I sat up, looked away from the door, and resided myself to focus on other things. It didn’t work, because the weight on my legs startled me, turning my head to face what was straddling my legs. I was faced with Maus, cheeks wet with tears, and eyes wide with veracity. I avoided eye contact and noted that she took off her jacket and boots. I rested my hands on either side of me, knowing that if I touched her more than I already was, I would forgive her immediately.

She noticed my adversity to do anything with her at the moment, but she didn’t seem to care as she brought my face up to look at hers, hands on my moist cheeks. She gazed deeply into my eyes, seemingly trying to find truth in the words I spoke earlier. Once she found what she was looking for, she wiped my eyes, released the breath she was holding and cried a little more. I watched all of her actions in total silence, trying to decipher what she was doing. When I tried looking for sympathy, remorse, or even plain sadness, I didn’t find any of it. This time, she was the one who broke eye contact and pulled her hands away from my face. As if deciding her plan was a bad idea, she rose from my legs and started to walk off. On impulse, I grabbed her hand, pulled her back toward me, and held her waist as I set her back down on my lap. She let her hands remain still on her legs while I adjusted my grip to palm both sides of her face, turning her gaze up toward mine. She looked into my wondering eyes once and started crying again. I tried my best to wipe the tears away, and I whispered, “Tell me what’s wrong Maus.” She pulled herself closer to me when her arms were around my neck, and beamed into my eyes. She breathed deeply a few times before she had the strength to say, “I-I’ve never . . . told anyone this, but . . . I-I love you, Luisa.”

Her words hit me as she kissed me passionately, tears falling down her face again. I reciprocated the kiss, the love I had for her coursing through my veins. She pulled away after a while, and whispered, “I love you.” This exchange of confessions of love and kisses continued for another six kisses before she pushed me back on the bed and flipped me on top of her. Every move we made now meant something more than it had before. Every kiss turned into a symbol of love, every hand hold became our promise to each other, and every confirmation of love became our piece of forever. We didn’t take a break from our romantic moment until we were both out of breath, half naked, and sure of the other’s feelings. I was lying between Maus’s legs, and holding her right hand down onto the bed, our fingers intertwined in the sacrificial service of our hearts to each other. With every kiss, I fell harder and deeper in love with my Maus. I wish there was a way to describe how Maus made me feel, but I guess some things were too perfect for explanations.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SMUT!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember kids, Consent is Sexy. (Insert Knowing Parent Look)

**Beca**

 

Number of days since case opened: 42

Number of days since break in: 35

Number of days living with my beautifully amazingly caring cop girlfriend: Technically 13, but I say 35 since she’s cared for me that many days.

I mentally counted all the days between the landmarks in our relationship while removing caramel laced brownies from the pan resting on the stove. Over the past couple weeks, I’ve done so much baking, I could’ve been mistaken for a younger version of Paula Deen, minus the racial slurs. Most of the baking I’ve done involved chocolate because of someone who I found out has such an obsession with chocolate, they have an entire drawer in their desk devoted to it. I laughed when I found out, and almost constantly teased Luisa for it, saying things like, “No wonder you’re so sweet!” or “Be careful. I may have to take your chocolate for that,”. She always fell for my jokes, but I couldn’t tell if it was because she wanted to humor me, or if she was just extremely gullible. She insisted it was the first option, but her reactions called for the latter. Regardless of the whole chocolate ordeal, Luisa was still the sweet and loving gorgeous specimen I fell in love with. She had been very lenient about all the pressure to be sexual because she knows I haven’t had sex in my life, and while I wasn’t waiting for marriage, I wanted my first lover to be someone special. So when I thought over the situation with Luisa, I knew I wanted to give everything I could to her, even myself.

She walked in the front door, jacket thrown over her shoulder and sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She’s been so busy with work that she sometimes didn’t get home until eleven o’clock when she immediately went to bed for comfort from me. All these extra hours have really put her under so much stress, and I could tell she was about to snap. She never really showed her frustration, but I could sense the tension when Pieter called her late at night. She went to our bedroom, put her jacket away, and took off her boots, leaving her in her pants and shirt. She came up behind me, holding my waist, and kissed me long and lovingly before pulling me into a backward hug. I accepted her affections, leaning into her and kissing her back. We separated, and she noticed the brownies I made. She snuck one past me, eating half of it in one bite, and moving off to the side so I could slap her shoulder. She laughed at my futile attempt to retaliate, but I still asked, “Long day?” She huffed out a long breath, “Too long. Too long away from my adorable kleine Maus.” She brushed my cheek with her hand before snatching the plate of brownies, gobbling down two. “Hey! You can’t butter me up like that to get what you want!” I yelled, trying to swat at her. “I believe that is the reason for ‘buttering you up’. To get what I want,” she explained, finishing her sixth brownie.

I didn’t think I’d have to butter her up to get what I wanted, but I kept the thought to myself as I asked her, “Have you gotten any further in the case?” She set the half empty plate down on the island, and explained, “I think we’re at a dead end. We seem to have all the pieces, but we’re not fitting them together correctly. I don’t say this very often, but I think the person that did this may get away with it.” I pulled her in front of me, my back to the island, and kissed her, encouraging, “You are going to solve this case. You just need to look at it from a different angle.” She kissed me back, lifting me onto the island counter with her hands on my thighs. She found her way between my legs, moving closer, and told me, “Thanks for the confidence, I really appreciate it.” I gripped her collar, pulling her down into another kiss, then moved to the buttons as I whispered, “No problem. Now, let’s worry about other things.” She must have been on the same page as me because she moved closer and kissed me, sliding her hands up my thighs. I felt heat begin to pool in my core as I slowly undid the buttons on her shirt, my fingertips teasing her warm skin. With the buttons completely undone, I let my hands crawl over her torso, feeling muscles tense as I touched them. What I got in response were low growls and a tight grip on my waist.

Suddenly, she pulled away, eyes closed and lip bitten. She breathed a few times before she said, “I-I can’t do this.” She looked me in the eyes as I asked, “Why?”

“I can’t touch you until you’ve explicitly expressed consent. As a cop, it would completely immoral and unethical if I didn’t get consent from you.” She was being sincere with her request for me to say, “Yes” and I had to admire her devotion to her job and all it meant. She even took her hands off of me and set them in the areas next to me. I smiled, took her face in my hands, and kissed her firmly, trailing my hands down to hers. I broke the kiss and inched my mouth closer to her ear to express my explicit consent. I had her hands in mine and began moving them to where I wanted them as I whispered, “Oh Luisa. Only if you could understand how much I want you right now.” I could hear her breathing become jagged as I got one of her hands on the inside of my thigh, where she could clearly feel the heat I was experiencing. I licked my lips, slid her other hand underneath my shirt, and pushed it up toward my chest as I continued, “How much I want you to touch me like no one else has.” I landed her hand on my breast, her soft, warm palm sending a shot of want to my center. I gasped at the feeling, and Luisa’s hand at my thigh tightened a bit. I wasn’t wearing a bra, which helped with the effectiveness of my actions.

I left her hand at my chest as I took the opportunity to make more of an offensive, transferring my hand to her stomach, which was a bit slick and hot. She groaned a little at the surprise but moved closer to me. I dragged my hand down her stomach and managed to slip it into the waistband of her pants. A rush of hot air hit my neck as I moved my hand further into the unexplored regions of Luisa’s legs. I found what I was looking for and pressed into the sultry, moist space, causing Luisa to bite down slightly on my neck. Despite how hard it was to concentrate on anything but getting Luisa inside me, I found my right mind and went on, “I know how much you want to take me. I can feel it right here.” I pushed two fingers onto her clit and she hoarsely groaned. “So take me. Right here, right now. Make me beg for more. Make me scream out while I plead for you to keep going. Make me out of breath as I struggle to scream your name. Luisa. Luisa. Luisa.” I gasped and pressed her clit each time I said her name for dramatic effect. She was clutching my thigh for something to ground her as she choked, “Gott Maus. Ich kann es nicht mehr nehmen. Sag einfach ja schon.” I barely understood what she said, but heard her say yes, so I finished, “Yes, Luisa. Take me—aaahhh!”

She wasted no time in getting her hand in my shorts and pushing a finger inside me, using her other fingers to stimulate my pulsating clit. Her hand was soft against me but rough with her actions. She kissed and sucked at my neck as I ripped my hand from her pants and wrapped both my arms around her neck, wanting her closer. I got my legs around her waist, pulled her hips against mine, and bucked at the pressuring heat. My head fell back, her kisses trailing down my neck, and she pushed another finger inside me. I clawed at her back, the pleasure a whole new sensation for me, and I moaned shakily, the sound bouncing off the walls. Another second later, my shirt was pulled off and Luisa was kissing everywhere she could see as she cupped my breast again, her warmth surrounding me. Her lips found mine again, her tongue mapping the inside of my mouth, and she pulled at my lower lip with her teeth. I felt an impending climax rising inside me, and I cried out, “Luisa, please!” She responded quickly, pushing another finger into me and thrusting faster, deeper inside me. I did all I could to contain myself as my body became coated in sweat and I buried my face in Luisa’s chest, gasping in and out onto the skin there. She bent down, using her lips to move my head back enough for her to capture me in a kiss. She kept me there for a while, then broke away to curl her fingers inside me, making me scream, “Luisa! Luisa! Luis—aaahhh!”

I realized I just came when Luisa removed her fingers from me, and I found my shorts wet. I couldn’t catch my breath before she attacked my lips again, and picked me up by my legs, going to our bedroom to finish me off. She laid down on top of me, bending my legs upward to make this easier for the both of us. Her hands ventured over my body, removing my shorts and underwear as soon as they got the chance. For the first time in my life, I was naked in front of someone else. I didn’t know what to make of it until I unconsciously started to undress Luisa, pushing her shirt off her shoulders and her pants down her legs. She got out of her basic clothes, her half naked on top of me. She let my hands wander down her body all the while she was kissing me passionately and grinding her hips into mine. My hands held her breasts through her bra before I unclasped it and slid it down her arms. She leaned down onto me, pressing our chests together, and I arched up into her, wanting more of her skin against mine. She pulled away, looked down at me with a hungrily loving look in her eyes, and smirked as she brushed the hair out of my face. She laughed and said, “So, Kleine Maus. What’s next?” All sense of breathing went out the window at her sweet talk with a touch of sin, and I barely got out, “You’d have to tell me.”

She bent back down to my face, our lips so close, and whispered against my mouth, “I’ll have to show you.” She kissed me fiercely, pinning my hips to the bed, and she shimmied out of her underwear. Both fully naked, my hands in her hair, her hands holding me down, she marked her way down my neck, and down my body, my eyes following her every move. She got closer to where I was craving attention most, and my body undulated in anticipation. She smirked and kissed even further down, positioning her head between my thighs. I bit my lip as she kissed, licked, and bit her way up my thighs. Finally, her tongue jabbed at my clit, two fingers slipping inside to accompany. I almost immediately came as I was still high from my last orgasm. My head shot back onto the pillows, a restrained moan escaping me. My legs were readjusted, one going over Luisa’s shoulder, the other spread out to the right, which allowed greater access to my newly popped cherry. She added another finger, pumped severely into me, and sucked harder on my clitoris. I bundled the sheets in my fists as another body-shattering orgasm rocked through my body. My screams were a muddled collection of her name, moans, and gasps as she licked me clean and made her way back to my face, kissing me long and passionately.

“Oh . . . my fucking God. What was that?” I breathed out, heaving breaths. Luisa settled on top of me, kissing me everywhere she could find. From underneath my jaw, she responded kindly, “That was called sex, Maus. Or as I like to call it with you, making love.” I smiled at her comment of our love making and kissed her sweetly. Now it was my turn to make love to her. I flipped us onto her back, holding her hand down to the bed as I felt my way down her flawless body with my free hand. She seemed to know what I was doing and grabbed my wandering hand, glaring at me. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she inquired, her eyes searching my face. “Yes, Luisa. I want to give you as much as you gave me.” I kissed her, and her grip loosened up a bit, allowing me to slide my hand down her slick stomach and to her even slicker core. Her hand held my wrist as my hand found its way between her legs, caressing her thigh gently. She arched up a bit as I penetrated her with two fingers, and she nipped at my lip. Right when I thought I was in control of this, her grip on my hand tightened and she pulled my palm into her clit, pushing my fingers deeper into her. I kissed down her neck, marking her, and inserted another finger into her. Her hips jerked up while she held my hand in place, pleasuring herself on my hand.

The hand I was holding down to the bed was crushed by the brute force Luisa used to express how much pleasure was coursing through her. Her hand that was anchoring my hand to her clit undid itself and pulled me closer to her by my waist. She continued to ride my hand, but I had a little more control over when she came. I pressed hard into her clit, and she moaned loudly. “What do you want from me?” I teased, biting her neck. She whimpered, and admitted, “You, Beca. I want you.”

“Nein. Mein name ist Maus. Say it,” I demanded, pressing her clit again.

“Maus,” she whined, and I could feel her start to tighten around my fingers. I got close to her ear, and commanded, “Scream it.”

At my request, she bucked harder against my hand, wailing, “Maus! Maus!” I felt my fingers were coated in her fluids as her harsh thrusting eased to steady grinding. Her breath shuddered out of her as she raised her free hand to my face and kissed me delicately. I removed my fingers from her, wiped them on the sheets, then held her waist with both my hands once I detangled my other hand from her death grip. She held my face to hers with both her hands as she caught her breath in between deep, passionate kisses. After making out for a good ten minutes, and after we had returned to normal bodily functions, we laid there talking. I was under Luisa’s chin while she ran her fingers through my hair and I caressed the skin on her stomach. “Thank you, Maus,” she said, rubbing the pad of her thumb across my cheek. “You’re welcome, but for what exactly? You’re the one who gave me a hell of a first time. If anything, I should be thanking you.”

“I have plenty to thank you for, Maus. The first thing I need to thank you for is loving me because I don’t know if I would’ve made it through these past few weeks if I didn’t have you.” She nuzzled her face into my shoulder like a cat would and even purred a little. I found it so adorable and cute I couldn’t help but awe.

“You know you’re so cute when you do that. You remind me of a cat.” We rocked onto our side, and Luisa continuously nuzzled her face into my neck, chest, and shoulders. “That’s it. I’m calling you Cat. It’s very fitting since you call me Maus. What’s Cat in German?”

“Katze,” she whispered, kissing my chest. I hugged her and rested my cheek on her head, snuggling closer to her.

“Well, Ich liebe dich Katze.”

“Ich liebe dich auch Maus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:
> 
> Gott Maus. Ich kann es nicht mehr nehmen. Sag einfach ja schon. - God Maus. I can't take it anymore. Just say yes already!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The case is almost solved unless some of you have great deductive reasoning.

**Aubrey**

 

_ It had been so long since I’d seen her. One of the very last times I saw her before today was college, and we had so much to catch up on. From what I knew, she was an elementary school teacher and that was about it. We needed to catch up, and when I asked her to lunch to do so, she agreed all too readily. I didn’t find anything weird about how fast she responded because she always made up her mind so easily. Then she suggested we had lunch at her house so we could have more privacy and she could show me what she’s accomplished. I was on my way there, and I just pulled into her driveway. I stepped out of my car, looked up at the house, and for some reason, got an eerie feeling that reminded me of Basic Instinct. I walked up to the front door, checked to make sure I looked appropriate because Stacie always made sure I was liberated before every time I went out. God, I love her, but damn she can be a horny fuck. I laughed at how my wife stayed the same beautiful woman with a very healthy sexual appetite since college when I met her. I rang the doorbell and waited for it to be answered, which didn’t take more than five seconds. The door opened, and I saw the bright ginger hair first. _

_ “Hey, Chloe! How have you been?” I asked excitedly, giving her a big hug. She hugged me back, and invited me inside, gesturing to the table where two plates were already set out. I looked around her house as I made my way to the small table set for two, and I found it to be quite quaint for a house in the suburbs. I sat down at the table, and Chloe sat across from me, a big smile plastered on her face. She seemed to be as excited as me about this, and I loved having her as a friend. We hadn’t talked much since that argument back in college, but we managed to stay friends though. I noticed we were eating her famous lasagna and salad, and began to dig in. We took turns asking each other questions about our jobs, our families, and our love lives. I was surprised to find out Chloe wasn’t in a relationship at all, given how flirtatious she was in college. When we started the conversation of how my married life has been, she seemed to be a little off put by the way I talked about Stacie. I must’ve forgotten how pissed Chloe was at me when I started to date Stacie in college. Once I realized my mistake, I quickly apologized, “Sorry, Chloe. I got lost in my thoughts. I wasn’t paying attention to how it might’ve affected you.” She shook her head and waved her hand. “Don’t worry. You won’t have to worry about me anymore.” I didn’t know what she meant by that until she stood from her seat and walked to me, pressing a firm kiss to my lips. _

_ I freaked out, and pushed her away, my eyes wide with surprise and anger. I began to spew out my surprise and hatred toward her actions. I stood up screaming, “Why would you do that?! You know I’m married and have a kid on the way! Happily married I might add! You have no right to invade on that! Why would you even think of doing that?!” She stood across from me, hurt and offended. Her hurt turned to rage in seconds, and she was screaming back at me, “You have to understand Aubrey, you don’t call your ex out of the blue asking to go to lunch without wanting to get back with them! You really thought we could be friends after what you did to me? To us?” I couldn’t take any more of the excuses she was giving, and while my choice of words was very spiteful, they needed to be said. “Us?! There is no ‘us’ anymore! I don’t think there was an ‘us’ to begin with! And you’re talking about what I did to you? You just put me in a compromising situation! I have a wife, Chloe! Don’t you ever think that maybe she would have opposition to what you just did?!” Chloe looked like she was about to cry, but looked resolute in saying, “I have thought about her. About how she stole you from me, about how she got the life I wanted with you. That doesn’t matter now, so just go. Go, Aubrey!” I groaned in frustration before wiping my face with my hand and grabbing my keys. I left without another word, regretting even thinking about seeing Chloe again. _

********

_ “What do you mean you ‘found someone else’?” Chloe was pissed. Really pissed. At me, specifically. I just broke up with her to be with Stacie, and she wasn’t taking the news very well. “Look Chloe. I don’t think we work anymore, and I can’t be in a relationship that’s one sided. That’s so unfair to you,” I explained, trying to calm her down. She only got more agitated, and screamed, “Unfair? You want to talk about unfair when you’re breaking up with me?! What’s unfair is that you think you can just sleep with anyone and break up with me for your mistakes!” _

_ “I didn’t cheat on you, Chloe!” _

_ “Okay, sure. Then who is she?” She crossed her arms across her chest, standing rigidly in front of me. _

_ “Stacie. From Gay-Straight Alliance,” I admitted, looking away from Chloe to avoid her fired gaze burning its way through my skull. She scoffed, and retorted, “That slut! You’re leaving me for a whore?!” _

_ “She’s not a slut and don’t call her that! She may be a bit more sexual than most people, but that doesn’t mean she’s fucking everyone on campus!” My temper was blowing through the roof at that point, but Chloe didn’t stop her assault on me and Stacie. _

_ “She’s not fucking everyone on campus, but she’s definitely fucking you if you think you can just break up with me!” _

_ “I told you, Chloe! I never cheated on you! Ever! But if you want to keep telling that to yourself, go ahead. I won’t deal with it anymore. We’re over! End of story!” I stormed out of the room, slamming the door on the way out. I was at the end of the hall when I heard the door open again, and Chloe shouted, “No one will ever be your Baby like I was, Bree!” _

********

_ I woke up in a slight daze, feeling Stacie’s lips against my neck. She got to my lips, and I stopped her with, “Morning Preggers.” She responded with her typical, “Morning, Daddy,” before she sat up to let me feel the baby. I kissed her as a way to thank her for this life we had together, but she tried to get me to be dirty this early in the morning. I told her of our agreement we made months ago about no sex until the baby was born, but neither of us actually stuck to it. I purposefully forgot my lunch some days just so Stacie had a reason to come into the office. Nevertheless, I tried to stop her from getting me too turned on before she had to touch me, but despite my best efforts, she eventually won with a bunch of hip grinding. I didn’t let her get away with her dastardly plans because I threatened her with revenge, and let her have at me. She was two fingers in, and my phone started to ring. I begged Stacie to stop, but when she didn’t, I answered the call with a shaky, “H-Hello?” I hadn’t looked at the caller ID but recognized the voice once they started speaking. _

_ “Hey, Aubrey.” Chloe. “I was just calling to say sorry for what I did last week. You’re right, I had no right to invade on you like that. I should’ve known better than to think you’d cheat on Stacie because you didn’t cheat on me all those years ago. You only wanted to catch up, but I took it as a sign that you wanted to get back together.” _

_ “No, it’s fine. It was misleading on my part, but—” I slightly moaned when Stacie slipped another finger inside me and bit my neck a bit hard. _

_ “What was that?” _

_ “That was nothing. I’m just doing something else right now.” _

_ “Okaaaaaaaaay. I also wanted to know if you wanted to go out for lunch today, as a way for me to apologize for ruining our last attempt. We can go out in public so we won’t be alone and so I won’t be able to try anything like I did last time. I really want to be friends again, and I would like to formally apologize for my actions.” _

_ I thought about her proposition for a little bit before saying, “Okay, fine. I’ll be there around 11:15. ‘Kay, bye.” I hung up the phone, and let Stacie finish me off. When I had come, I exacted my revenge immediately. I explained where I was going, but not the real reason why then I ate Stacie out. I fixed her back up, then went to get a shower, which she joined me in. We got dressed, and after a few pregnancy jokes, I was on my way to lunch with Chloe. It took me nearly half an hour to get there because traffic in Atlanta was horrific. I pulled up in front of The Ritz, parked my car, and hurried inside, where Chloe was already waiting. I walked up behind her, placed my hand gently on her shoulder, and said, “Hey.” She smiled at me before motioning to the seat across from her, welcoming, “Hey Aubrey. I’ve been expecting you.” I smiled back and sat down, placing my bag on my the back of my seat. I turned back to her, and picked up the menu, glancing at it briefly before facing Chloe. She was about to say something when the waiter came up to us, saying, “Hello ladies. My name is Patrick, and I will be your server today. Are you ready to order drinks?” Chloe switched her attention to the waiter, stating, “Yes. I’ll have a glass of water with a cup of red wine.” The waiter wrote down her order then turned to me. “I’ll have the same, thank you.” He went off with our order, and we went back to the conversation we hadn’t started. _

_ “Let me start by saying sorry for what I did,” Chloe said, looking down into her lap, where her hands were fumbling with each other. She was nervous, I could tell, but she exuded confidence when she looked back at me warily. I could see a bit of indecision in her eyes before I responded, “It’s okay Chloe. I was the one who messed up by not telling you why I wanted to meet with you last time.” The waiter came back with our drinks, and we quickly ordered lunch so he would leave us alone. I sipped my water as Chloe drank her wine while she continued. “But, I’m also sorry that you couldn’t see how good we were together. We could’ve had what you have now, but I apparently did something wrong all those years ago that made you run away.” She started to cry like she was blaming herself for where she was now, and all I felt was pity. I knew I ran away from her suddenly, leaving her heartbroken and alone, but I also knew I couldn’t control how separated we became after a year of our relationship. Being friendly, I stood up and pulled Chloe close. I hugged her around the shoulders and she hugged me back around the waist, though her embrace was looser than I expected. I told her, “It’s okay Chloe. It was my fault anyway. I ran away from you without saying goodbye,” and barely heard something being poured behind me. I brushed it off as one of the waiters pouring wine for another table and continued to hug Chloe until she pulled away. _

_ We sat back down, and she seemed to be appeased as we ate. We talked about the depths of our jobs, and I found out that Chloe really liked teaching children the basics for later schooling. I finished my food and sat there drinking the glass of wine I had. The wine burned a bit as I drank it, but I disregarded it as a really strong wine. The wine also had a sort of metallic taste to it, but it wasn’t really noticeable until I finished the glass. I didn’t get any more wine after that since I wasn’t too tolerant of alcohol, and I still had to meet with Beca about her DJ-ing a party I was going to have for the office. Chloe and I decided to call it a day, now that we established a semblance of a friendship, and we hugged once before we went our ways. I drove down to the Starbucks near Beca’s apartment, calling her and telling her the plan. She agreed, and I got her her favorite caramel macchiato as well as my very specific grande creme frappuccino with whole milk, three pumps of caramel syrup, three pumps of toffee nut syrup, and caramel drizzle. In simpler words, a Butterbeer frappuccino as if we were in Harry Potter. I went to Beca’s apartment complex, passing by the police station where I saw a rather tall blonde woman in jeans and a leather jacket walking into the building. _

_ I picked Beca up, and it was then that I started to notice how hard it was to concentrate on anything I was doing. Sweat was dripping from my forehead in large drops, and I wondered how I had gotten so hot on such a cool day. Then, I felt how difficult it was to swallow or breathe, coughing when I felt myself starting to choke. “Are you alright Aubrey?” Beca asked, clearly noting everything I was. I felt a throbbing pain in my head that was incessant but responded, “Yeah, I’m fine. I just have this really bad headache I can’t seem to get rid of.” I knew I was underestimating the pain and difficulty I was having, but I almost knew for sure it had to be either the wine I drank or the pasta I ate because I haven’t done anything extreme lately. I wiped my forehead of the sweat and breathed as deeply as I could without choking. Reality seemed to start disappearing before me, and I barely understood what Beca asked me. I completely forgot where we were heading or supposed to be heading, and I just drove in as straight a line I could without looking drunk. I squinted my eyes, trying to figure out what was happening to me, but I couldn’t find any explanation. My eyes started to flutter shut, and I just thought, “Stacie, I lo—” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't know who did it and why by now, you're in for a surprise.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short(er), and slightly boring, but it picks up. Trust me.

**Luisa**

 

I groaned as I rubbed my eyes in frustration. I looked back at the bulletin board in front of me and felt like shooting the fucker down. I’ve been staring at this piece of cork for hours now, and I still couldn’t see it. All the evidence was in front of me, and I couldn’t piece it together. I was surprised I hadn’t fallen asleep yet, but I guess I have Maus to thank for that. I got one of the best nights of sleep in my life last night, and I was fairly sure it had to do with the fact that I always slept well after sex. So now I was here, wishing I could touch Maus again while trying to see what was going on with this case. There’s a clear line between the motive and evidence, but not to any specific person, which was the hard part. Our prime suspect was still Stacie as much of the evidence pointed toward her, but I knew that she didn’t do it. I thought over all the possibilities as I sat on the edge of Pieter’s desk, drilling hole into the board with my eyes. My concentration was broken when Pieter came up behind me and slapped me on the shoulder. I jumped, turned to him, and yelled, “ Jesus Christus Pieter! Mach das nicht!” He laughed before he said, “I have a question to ask you.” I glared at him as I went back to focusing on this board. “What is it?” I asked impatiently, wanting to get back to my thoughts.

"Aksel and I were wondering if you and your little troll wanted to go out for drinks or dinner later. It’s only 6:45, and we can get out of here by 7:15 if you let us.” I thought over what he was saying and looked at my watch to confirm the time. 6:53. Damn it. I huffed out a breath, and looked back at Pieter, who was wiggling his eyebrows as if he was trying to entice me. 

“Maybe. I’ll have to ask Maus first. I’m fine with it, she’s the deciding vote,” I answered, staring back at the board. Pieter seemed to be surprised with my answer because he’s never known me to take orders from anyone, even if it is just dinner. His eyes widened as he stood next to me, mocking, “Woah! Domineering Luisa Meyer taking orders from a troll. You take her v-card, and suddenly you’re her bitch!” 

I stood up, faced him, and scolded him, “Get a few things straight. One, she’s not a troll. Two, I’m not domineering, I just like to be in charge. Three, I’m not her bitch . . .  _ she’s _ my bitch.” I laughed at my last comment, and so did Pieter once he realized I was joking. Though I was laughing, I seriously asked him, “How did you know about last night?” He stopped laughing immediately, and tried to play the innocent game like he hadn’t done anything. He sat in his chair, put his feet up on the desk, and leaned back casually. “Alright fine. One, I’ve never seen you this happy and awake in years. Two, you bite your lip every time either one of us mentions your Maus. And three, I’m your best friend. I know everything.” I had to give him credit, his reasons were fairly valid, but I wasn’t going to entertain the subject any longer. I turned back around to the board, sat on his desk again, and folded my arms across my chest. I looked at the board for the millionth time, and decided to call it a night since I wasn’t any closer to figuring this out. I went to my office and grabbed my belongings. I was just walking to the door when the fax machine in the corner buzzed to life, printing a piece of paper. I glanced out to Pieter, asking, “Did you know this still worked?” He shrugged his shoulders, but came into my office to look at the paper that was just faxed to me.

He read the paper closely, the information a bit hard to understand. He handed it to me to read because he was confused and he thought I could understand what was being said. The first thing I read was who it was from.  _ Swanson, Benji _ . Wasn’t he Jesse Swanson’s lawyer? Apparently they were . . . married? I didn’t question that as much as I did the person it was from. I kept reading to the subject line.  _ Who You Should Be Looking For _ . What was that supposed to mean? Did Benji and Jesse know the whole time and they’re now telling me? I kept reading to the body of the message.  _ Since you didn’t get the hints I dropped when you interrogated me, I feel the need to explain them. I asked you if you had any kids and if you knew what it was like to care for them everyday because the person you’re looking for takes care of children everyday. I then noted the ice cream truck out the window as a white van to indicate the elementary school that wasn’t too far from there. I hope this helps you because I would hate to see this person go free, considering how she affects you. _ I now understood what Jesse was saying a month ago, and I quickly commanded Pieter, “Search our database for all elementary school teachers in Atlanta.” He nodded, then rushed out of the room to his laptop that had access to the police intranet. I set my stuff down and went out to look over his shoulder.

He pulled up the database, then used the occupation search bar to find all elementary school teachers within a twenty-five mile radius of the police station. That turned up at least 500 names and accompanying images. We scrolled through the names for not even five minutes before we saw a familiar face.  _ Chloe Beale _ . I had Pieter click on her profile and read out everything we had on her, from her birthday to her parentage, which wasn’t very much. We strangely didn’t have much on who her parents were like she were either a foster kid or adoptive. The only real information we got on her was that she majored in Teaching and minored in Computer Skills in college. But the idea of her being our culprit intrigued me enough that I wasn’t going to wait until tomorrow to fully investigate. I remembered she was the person Aubrey was having lunch with before she died, so I asked Pieter to replay the security footage from that day. He played it twice, and we still couldn’t find any evidence that she did anything. That is, until we watched it through the end. We watched it in its entirety, and I noticed about halfway through that there was a small time skip. The time on the recorder jumped from 11:34 to 11:40 in seconds, which, unless one lived in a different universe, wasn’t really possible here on Earth.

I went through every piece of evidence we had. The email I was sent a month and a half ago, the messages that were sent from Aubrey’s office, and every interrogation we ever had. I was starting to put the pieces together, and I realized that most of the evidence we had were just cover ups to the real evidence. The anonymous email that was traced to the burner phone was just a way to send us on a wild goose chase. Plus, one would have to have some knowledge on computers and the internet if they could send an anonymous email and know to use a prepaid that was bought with cash so we wouldn’t be able to track it. The explanation for the messages was simple. Chloe managed to hack into the router at Aubrey’s office and direct her internet traffic through Aubrey’s computer that she knew only she and Stacie had access to. Thinking back to the interrogation I had with the scumbag who tried kidnapping Maus, I remembered him saying something about a crayon warehouse. How oddly specific. Surely a teacher would know where a crayon manufacturer was, and know the schedule enough to plan a kidnapping. That part was a bit far-fetched, but it made sense. I came across to the box that was found in Aubrey and Stacie’s wardrobe, and tried to come up with reasoning for this.

No matter what Maus said, the contents showed she was having an affair with Aubrey and Aubrey kept the important things. I questioned why an email would be in with crucial evidence for an affair, but then I remembered what was said in that email. It was very incriminating toward Stacie or Maus, the motives different. But all of that is contradicted by Maus’s and Stacie’s statements. Maus admitted to being a virgin, and not having any sort of attraction to Aubrey. Stacie seconded her statements after she gave it some thought, but I had enough experience with Maus to know that what she was saying was true. The way she clenched around my fingers when I first slid them inside her explicitly told me she’d never had that done to her before. Not to mention the way she held onto me as she came explained how much of a new sensation it was. I didn’t think the court was going to allow me to explain my sex life with Maus as evidence, but it only proves my point with her not being the one who murdered Aubrey. Then there were the compliments that were meant to be insults, which expressed how she was attracted to me. There was no other way to describe that.

The “sexy” underwear in the box were about Maus’s size, but definitely not hers. I asked Pieter for Chloe’s height and weight, which she turned out to be a couple inches taller than Maus and about her same weight. I concluded that they would wear about same size in all their clothes, therefore making the panties Chloe’s that she somehow planted in Aubrey’s house. I also know Maus’s undergarments, which are mostly boxers surprisingly. I finally connected all the dots in my head, and gasped audibly at the realization. Pieter was still watching the computer screen for the thing I somehow noticed. He looked at me with a questioning expression, and I had to explain everything to him. Once I had finished, he explained, “That may be the case, but there really isn’t any substantial evidence that pinpoints Ms. Beale as our murderer unless she outright confesses to it, or someone else comes forward with more evidence.” I damned him for killing my thunder, but then my phone started to ring. I pulled out my phone and looked at the caller ID before answering. It was Maus. “Hallo, Maus. How has your day been?” I asked, trying to get away from Pieter. There wasn’t much of a response beside a sniffle, and a mumbled, “Luisa?” I was immediately alerted at the lack of enthusiasm, and went into protection mode.

Pieter noticed, and asked, “What’s wrong—” 

I held up my hand to stop him. “Shut up Pieter! What’s wrong Mäuschen?” I heard more sniffles on the line, and a small whimper, “Please help.” The last time that sentence was said with that tone, my entire family was killed, and now I feared my love might die. “Where are you Beca?” I knew it would be difficult for her to answer if she were in a deadly situation so I kept my questions simple. “St-Stacie’s house.”

“Alright. What’s going on?”

“Chl-Chloe’s holding me and Stacie hostage. A-And she’s got a g-gun.” Images of Beca and Stacie being held at gunpoint by a murderer flooded my mind, but I managed to direct people to handle the situation. “Alright. Stay calm Maus. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Stay on the line if you can.”

“I can’t. Chloe’s expecting me back any second, but I’ll try to calm Stacie and myself.”

“Great. I love you, Maus.”

“I love you too, Katze. Bye” I hung up reluctantly, but knew what needed to be done. I got the attention of the entire station, saying, “We have a hostage situation at 336 East Sutor street! Call SWAT immediately, and get your asses moving!” I snatched my keys from my desk and nearly sprinted to my car with Pieter following close behind. So many thoughts were running through my head, most similar to that night eight years ago. I hoped that I wouldn’t get there and find everyone dead like I did last time, but I was just being hysterical. I taught Maus how to handle herself and others in a hostage situation, so unless Chloe was truly insane, they would remain alive. Then the question of whether Chloe was insane floated in my mind. What if she was insane? What if she did kill Stacie and Beca? What if I never got to see Maus again? What if that was our last “I love you”?


	17. Chapter 17

**Stacie**

 

I invited Beca over for coffee so we could discuss what life was like for us now. I shared the good news that the baby was just fine and healthy, he or she was going to be on time. I even showed her my stomach, which had increased in size since the case started, and gave her a picture from my most recent sonogram. She took one look at the picture and just melted. She was about to cry, but I hugged her so she wouldn’t make me cry because I was liable to. She calmed after a bit, and I wondered whether Sergeant Meyer was a miracle worker. I’ve never seen Beca get emotional over a child; I’ve never seen her get emotional over anything. When I asked her what Sergeant Meyer did, since I didn’t know about their relationship at the time, she just smiled and spaced out for a minute before she could come up with any answer. Her silence had scared me, but she soothed my tensions when she said, “She loves me. And I love her.” I was so excited that Beca said that that I pulled her into a hug and demanded she told me the details of everything so far. She started with a bunch of sappy bullshit that all couples start out with, then she got to last night. She thought it over, biting her lip, and I knew exactly what happened. “Oh my God! So how was it? How was she?” I sputtered, wiggling my eyebrows sensually.

She shoved my shoulder lightly, then admitted dreamily, “It was amazing.  _ She _ was amazing. Her body was pure muscle, but her skin was so soft. I couldn’t understand how she managed to be so controlling, but gentle at the same time.” Beca looked into the distance, obviously thinking of Sergeant Meyer, and she snapped to attention when the doorbell rang. I got up, walked over to the door, and unlocked it. Beca watched as I opened the door to a ginger woman I didn’t know. Beca stood up, and came over to the door, saying, “Hey Chloe! What are you doing here?” This Chloe just smiled and giggled a little before she pulled a gun out of nowhere and pointed it at us. My hands shot up like I was being arrested, and so did Beca’s, but she also screamed, “Chloe! What the fuck are you doing?!” Chloe took a step into the house, forcing us back, and shut the door, locking it with all the locks possible. “This is how it’s going to work. You’re going to sit your asses down, and you’re going to do as I say or else you die,” Chloe explained with a sadistic smile on her face. Beca and I sat down, the gun still pointed at us, and we looked at each other anxiously. Beca had a sort of knowing look in her eyes, but I couldn’t tell what it was since Chloe caught our attention, demanding, “Put your goddamn hands down! I’m not arresting you, but I’m sure Beca here would love the handcuffs!”

Beca went wide eyed like she was either surprised to hear that or actually contemplating the thought. We put our hands down slowly, mine were shaky as my fear had seeped through my core. Beca seemed completely fine, but I knew she was freaking out on the inside. She had done this many times before, put on a mask and pretend nothing was wrong that is. I mentally applauded her for being able to do so, and I turned back to Chloe. She moved the chair to in front of us and had sat down with the gun in her lap. It was no longer in her hand, but she could shoot us in seconds if she wanted to. She seemed to be deciding what to do like she had only gotten this far in her plan and no further. But, man was I wrong. With a confidence I haven’t seen in anyone, she stood, the gun in her hand, and told us, “I’m going to kill both of you. Stacie first, then Beca so you can watch her livelihood die.” She looked at both of us, and I noted the dark circles around her eyes, knowing she probably hadn’t slept in a few days. She breathed a few times before bringing the gun to my forehead, my pulse racing at my impending death. Her finger was on the trigger, but then Beca jumped in with, “C-Can I go to the bathroom? I have a tiny bladder and I haven’t gone in a while.” I wondered how that would stop Chloe from shooting me, but then the gun was lowered, and Chloe threw her head to the side, saying, “Go ahead. But hurry back, I want to kill this bitch that stole my life.”

I didn’t know what she meant by the last statement, but I knew Beca was about to leave me with her. Beca stood from the couch and started to make her way to the bathroom upstairs, but I caught her by the wrist, begging, “Please don’t go.” Beca bent down to whisper to me, “Calm down. I’m going to call Luisa so she can come help.” It took me a bit took remember who Luisa was, but when I realized she was Sergeant Meyer, Beca was gone and I was alone with Chloe. The next few minutes were hell because Chloe sat back down and stared at me angrily the entire time. I started to cry hoping Beca would be able to get Ser—Luisa here in time before I was killed. I couldn’t understand why all of this was happening. She said I stole her life, but I didn’t know what she meant by that until I thought about it. She called me a “bitch that stole her life,” and I suddenly recognized who she was. I thought back to a few years ago when Aubrey and I were scrolling through the messages on some website and we found that exact comment by none other than BreeBaby. Once everything fell into place, I gasped and whimpered, “You’re BreeBaby. You’re the one who harassed us those years ago. And I’m pretty sure you’re the one who killed Aubrey.” Chloe switched her attention from the stairs where she was waiting for Beca to come back to me. She uncrossed her legs, leaned forward, and sneered in my face, “Look at the little detective. Finally solved the case. Too bad you’re going to die before you can tell anybody.”

I cried more as she leaned back in the chair, and looked back at the stairs, asking, “Where the fuck is this bitch?” She got up, walked up the stairs, and searched for Beca, me pleading, “No! Please don’t!” Chloe found Beca in the bathroom after she listened to the conversation for a bit. Chloe busted the door open just as Beca hung up, and Beca screamed obscenely loud, being dragged out of the bathroom and down the stairs by her neck. Chloe forced Beca onto her knees and stood in front of her, gun aimed at her head. I screamed, and covered my mouth as fast as possible, thinking screaming was a bad idea. “Who did you contact?!” Chloe roared, angling Beca’s head upward with the gun. With the barrel of the gun pressed tightly to her forehead, Beca shouted, “I didn’t contact anyone!” I could barely see past Chloe, but I knew tears were streaming down Beca’s face as she was faced with a life or death situation. Chloe placed her finger back on the trigger and screamed, “Who did you fucking contact?!” Beca cracked and confessed, “Sergeant Meyer of the Atlanta PD! I’m sorry!” Chloe, realizing she didn’t have much time, pistol whipped Beca across the head, causing Beca to fall to the side with a bleeding wound over her right eye. “You better be sorry because I’m gonna kill you right fucking now!” Beca’s hand went to clutch the side of her face as I stood to help her. Chloe turned around, pointed the gun at me, and said, “Don’t you fucking move, bitch!” I sat back down immediately but watched Beca intently as she struggled to get up herself.

Chloe wasn’t waiting any longer, so she grabbed Beca by her arm and shoved her toward the couch I was sitting on. She hit the arm of the couch, doubling over in shooting pain, and her top half landed in my lap. I quickly helped her sit next to me, her head bleeding somewhat profusely. She was breathing heavily, and suddenly she curled over, throwing up all over the rug. I held her hair back as her stomach emptied, and helped her wipe her mouth clean of the bile. Chloe sat down in her chair, disgusted, and told us to sit on the loveseat. We moved, and Beca’s head stopped bleeding some, so she was starting to come back to normal. “Know what? I’m going to wait until the Maus’s Katze is here, then kill her. But for now, I would love to see you bleed out all over this floor,” Chloe derided, standing and pointing the gun at me. I let out a small shriek before I started to cry again, knowing my death was soon. “I love you, Aubrey,” I whispered, accepting my fate, then Beca’s phone started ringing. Chloe freaked out, “What the hell is that?!” Beca recognized the song “What is Love?” and knew Luisa was calling her. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the singing device. She answered on speaker phone, thinking Chloe would most likely want to hear the conversation. “Hallo? Maus?” Luisa asked, sounding worried and rushed. “Ja, Katze. I’m here. So is Chloe and Stacie,” Beca responded as calmly as she could without stuttering. “Alright. Chloe. You need to release Beca and Stacie now if you want to get out of this alive,” Luisa stated, I assumed she was following police protocol.

“No! I  _ need _ to kill them! They both deserve to die!” Chloe shouted, keeping the gun aimed at me. I could hear Luisa struggle to control herself over the phone, but she explained, “Fine. Let Beca go. She did nothing to you, so let her go and we can negotiate for Stacie.”

“No! Beca is staying here, and so is Stacie!”

“Why do you want Beca? She doesn’t deserve to die.” Chloe lowered the gun, and sat down in her chair, huffing out a few angry breaths before she wove her tapestry of insanity. “To hurt you, Luisa. The way you hurt me all those years ago.”

“I’ve never known you until recently, so how does that work?” Chloe laughed maniacally, throwing her head back as if Luisa told the funniest joke in the world. “Oh, how do you not see it? Let me explain a few things. The reason you don’t have anything on my parents is that I erased the records of my parents so I could tell you  _ all _ about my father . . . Konstantin Littmann.” At the revealing of the name, both Luisa and Beca gasped, apparently knowing who this Konstantin was. Chloe disregarded their reactions and continued, “He was a great father to me, but he and my mother didn’t work out, so I barely saw him. I looked up to him, and I truly loved him. Then you had to tell your whore of a sister that he was fucking you because you refused to admit you were gay. When he was arrested, I wasn’t allowed to see him for years. Years, Luisa! Do you know how hard that was for me? I’m sure you didn’t care, that is until he was released and killed your entire family! Your poor sister, raped and shot like the little whore she was.”

“Stop it, Chloe!” Beca screamed, obviously having enough of this torment. I could hear Luisa’s temper rising as Chloe’s ranting continued. “Oh shut the fuck up Beca! You’re going to die anyway, so you might as well listen to the story. Like I was saying, he was put on death row for mass murdering your family, and what did you do? You let him get injected for something that needed to happen. So now, I have your precious little  _ Maus _ and I’m going to kill her to remind you of how much it hurts to have someone you love murdered senselessly.” Chloe stood up and aimed the gun at Beca’s head. Both Beca and I screamed rather loudly, alarming Luisa. “Get SWAT in there immediately!” Luisa yelled, attempting to cover the microphone, but failing. “If anybody comes in here, they’re both dead!” Chloe declared, getting more agitated than she was before.

“Alright, okay. No one will come in. Just explain why you murdered Aubrey,” Luisa calmed, trying to get Chloe to confess. That didn’t take much, because, at the sound of Aubrey’s name, Chloe walked across the room, shouting, “Oh, don’t get me started with that slut!” I got very triggered and angry when Chloe called Aubrey a derogatory term, but I knew better than to retaliate. “I was planning on killing her years before I actually did it. And it all started in college when she left me for you.  _ You _ . The campus skank. She apparently saw something in you that I could’ve given her, but she was persuaded by sex. She cheated on me with you, and like hell was I going to get you back for it,” Chloe extricated, talking to me now. I knew I shouldn’t have, but I corrected her, “She never cheated on you with me. I never even knew her until I saw her crying during GSA because she had broken up with her girlfriend, which I’m assuming is you.” Chloe whipped around, gave me a death glare, and shouted, “Shut up! I don’t give a shit about what you have to say! You stole Aubrey from me and you’re going to pay!” Chloe was about to shoot me, but Beca stood up, and Chloe diverted her attention to Beca.

“Chloe! You don’t need to do this!” Beca pleaded, tears wetting her cheeks. Luisa didn’t know what was going on, but was scared because she hurriedly asked, “What are you doing Maus?” Beca brought the phone up to her face slowly, and said through tears, “I-I love you, Luisa.” She continued to cry as she hung up the phone, cutting off Luisa’s sentence. “Beca! Please don’t—” Beca tossed the phone to me, wincing at the throbbing pain in her head, and implored Chloe, “You don’t . . . need to do this. You don’t have to be like you father. You can choose to be different than him. He made his choice years ago, but you still have one. I know this sounds like a bunch of cliches, but it’s all true. You can choose to kill us both, only one of us, or . . . kill neither of us. Regardless of what’s going on out there, you still have the option in here.” Beca stepped closer to Chloe, and Chloe raised the gun higher on Beca’s body. Beca stopped immediately, and Chloe started crying. “No! I have no other choice! I’ve already murdered someone! I’m already like my dad whether I want to or not! I made that decision two months ago, and now I need to finish what I started. I’m sorry, but I need to do this.” Chloe closed her eyes and fired twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last Chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is tagged Major Character Death for a reason.

**Luisa**

 

I heard the shots. Two fired just now. I was acting on impulse when I ran toward the house without a vest. I only worried for the safety of Beca and Stacie, I couldn’t have cared less about myself in my life. “Maus!” I screamed as I hopped over the fence without a second thought, and barely heard Pieter yell after me, “Luisa! Stop!” I ran across the front yard at lightning fast pace and nearly jumped all the stairs to the porch. I didn’t know what I was going to do when I got inside, but I didn’t care if I was shot a thousand times, no one was going to take my Maus from me. Not even a crazy psycho bitch whose father killed my entire family. I kicked open the door, thank God I was wearing combat boots and stepped inside with no further warning. I saw Chloe cowering against the wall, crying and wailing in remorse and fear. She still had the gun in her hand, but she was only holding it, not pointing it at anything but the ceiling. Then I noticed Stacie kneeled on the floor. She was crying profoundly and trying to apply pressure to something. After determining Chloe wasn’t really a threat at this point, I stepped toward Stacie only to find she was kneeling in a pool of blood. I took one more step and saw what she was trying to stop.

Beca was bleeding out from her shoulder and opposite arm, which she was clutching with intensity. She winced every time Stacie lightened up her pressure. I got down to both of them in seconds, asking Stacie, “What happened?” Stacie, though overtaken by sorrow, responded, “Chloe shot her, and she got Beca in the shoulder and barely got her arm.” I registered where the bullets were, or where they got Beca, and told Stacie, “I can take it from here, Stacie.” She reluctantly took her hands away, but not without Beca groaning in pain. Beca was still mostly conscious, but she was losing blood rapidly. I straddled her hips, being careful not to sit on her, and removed my suit jacket, bundling it up. I pressed the ball of fabric to Beca’s shoulder fairly hard, and she screamed in pain. “Sorry, Beca. I have to add as much pressure as I can,” I apologized, looking to her opposite arm. I saw the bullet had only grazed her skin, but the wound was still bleeding very badly. I turned to Stacie, my hand still holding down the jacket harshly, and told her, “Get a towel or something to tie her arm.” Stacie nodded fast before she got up and went to a closet upstairs to get a towel. “You know I almost forgot what it sounds like for you to say my name,” Beca said as best as she could, half smiling. Her ability to say something so carelessly in this kind of situation made me cry and kiss her.

Stacie returned with the towel, saw I was crying, and asked, “What happened?” I stopped crying for a second to respond, “Maus being Maus. Now wrap that around the wound and tie it tightly.” She followed my instructions, and Beca’s arm bleeding was under control. Seeing Beca was stable enough, I reached to my belt and pulled off a walkie talkie to inform everyone else about what’s happened. I pressed the button, and began speaking, “This is Sergeant Meyer, and I have one shooting victim with me. Her name is Beca Mitchell, she’s 25 years old, and she’s been shot in the shoulder, possibly shattered collarbone, and in the arm. Bleeding is under control, but she needs to be rushed to the hospital as soon as possible.” I began crying again when I felt Beca slightly squeeze my legs to signify she was still alive. There was a buzz before Pieter responded, “An ambulance is on their way. It’ll be here in five minutes, but what about the shooter? Have you apprehended them?” I looked to Chloe, who started pacing in the time I stabilized Beca. I got back on the walkie, and said, “She’s . . . incapacitated by herself.” I placed my walkie back on my belt and turned back to Beca, whose squeezes were becoming much fainter than I would’ve liked them to be. Her eyes were half closed, and she was breathing heavily. I knew she lost too much blood to be conscious much longer, so I tried to keep her awake as long as possible.

“Maus? Maus?” I asked, cupping her face with my palm. She leaned into my warm touch and opened her eyes a bit more. I could barely see her dark blue irises in the dim lighting, but I saw enough to make me cry. “Stay awake for me, Maus. The ambulance is almost here,” I begged, trying to keep her awake. She opened her eyes fully, squeezing my legs as hard as she could, and whispered, “I love you, Katze.” Before I could know what was happening, she coughed up some blood and fainted. Her blood coated her lips and the inside of her mouth, but that didn’t stop me from screaming scaredly, “Maus!” and placing a firm passionate kiss on her lips. They were already slightly cold, but I tried to convey how much I loved her through a single kiss. How much I couldn’t live without her. How much I couldn’t let her go. How much I couldn’t lose her. I pulled away, my tears wetting her cheeks, and said, “I love you, Maus. I love you.” Just then, the paramedics came in with a stretcher, and I forced myself away from Maus as they loaded her onto the stretcher, someone else applying the pressure I was. I cried hard while they rolled her to the ambulance, and I turned to be pulled into Stacie’s arms. I cried into her shoulder as she tried to console me with her hug. I pulled away when I realized that I had to deal with Chloe, and I quickly wiped my cheeks of the tears. I walked over to Chloe cautiously, remembering she still had a gun and started to talk to her.

“Hey, Chloe. Look at me,” I said, standing in front of her. She turned around quickly, pointing the gun at me. My hands shot up as I backed away, explaining, “Chloe. Calm down and give me the gun.” She just stared at me with a mix of emotions crossing her face. The first I found was anger, followed by regret, and then sadness finally ended with resolution. “Y-You know I can’t do that,” she muttered, stepping toward me. I stepped back to keep an even distance between us, but I backed into the table, which stopped me from going anywhere else. She continued to come closer as she confided all her thoughts to me. “I-I’ve already killed so many people. I-I don’t know what to do besides finish what I’ve started. I-I’m sorry, but I have to kill you.” She was almost flush against me and glaring at me from her height. I gripped the edge of the table to ease the angry anxiety rising within me, and I glared back down at her with tears in my eyes. I felt sorry for her because she’s convinced herself that she has to kill people in order to get what she wants. I also felt sorry for her because I’ve been in her position before. What she didn’t know about Konstantin is that he was just as insane as she is now.

“After your father finished explaining what he did to my sister and the rest of my family, he went to kill me,” I started to explain, tears threatening to spill over. Chloe held the gun to my stomach as she remained quiet, silently asking me to continue. “The gun was pointed directly in between my eyes, and I could’ve been dead with a single move of his muscle. He held me there for a solid minute as I cried, dying from anticipation over my death.” Chloe’s eyes got a little spark in them like she was liking where I was going. “Suddenly, he was crying too and he lowered the gun to his side, unable to kill me. I was on my knees, hands tied together in front of me, and I looked up to him. He was looking down at me, tears pouring from his eyes, and he kneeled in front of me, wiping my tears away.”

“What are you doing?” Chloe asked, her voice slightly faltering.

“I’m telling you the truth. You at least deserve that.” She nodded, and let me go on. “He looked me in the eyes, took the cloth out of my mouth, and pressed his forehead to mine. He told me ‘I can’t kill the person I love. I’m sorry.’ He untied my hands, hoping I wouldn’t try to run away, and held my face in his hands as he kissed me like he used to. Full of love and passion. The only problem was that I didn’t feel the same. Even after all those years. I still felt bad that I led him on, but I just didn’t love him like he did me. I pushed him away gently with my hands on his bare chest and told him ‘I’m sorry Konstantin. I don’t love you. Never have, never will.’ He began crying again, and he removed his hands from my face. After a while, he picked the gun back up, and I feared he was going to kill me this time. Instead, he handed the gun to me and pointed it underneath his chin. ‘Then kill me. I can’t live without you, and you’ve already killed me inside. So make it official,’ he said to me. He wanted me to kill him because I didn’t love him. I simply couldn’t take another’s life because they wanted me to, so I murmured ‘No, Konstantin. You can learn to love someone else, but it’s not going to be me.’ He whimpered more, before finally saying ‘Fine. If you won’t kill me because of love. Kill me because of hatred. Get revenge for killing your family. For killing your sister.’ He was pleading with me by then, begging for his death. He placed my finger on the trigger, his other hand holding my hand with the gun to his chin. He reached out and grabbed my free hand, holding it while he said ‘Do it, Luisa. Pull the trigger.’ We were both crying our eyes out, but a rush of anger from within me made me clench my fist, and I shot him. He was dead. I didn’t open my eyes for another fifteen minutes, too scared to look upon the person I just murdered. Finally, I forced my eyes open and saw him lying on his side, blood pouring from his head. When other officers arrived, I told them that he committed police suicide. But it was your mother that told you he was injected. I regretted pulling the trigger as soon as I found out he had a daughter. I didn’t know it was you, I only knew he had a family. From that day forward, I lived with the secret of my first murder, waiting to tell the truth to his daughter.”

Chloe and I were crying, but more so her. She gained some composure to ask, “Why did you tell me all that?” I stared her in the eyes as I took her hand that held the gun in it, and brought the barrel of the gun to my chin, crying hot tears. “So you could get the revenge you deserve,” I said plainly and sincerely. I was glad Stacie had gone to the hospital with Pieter or else this wouldn’t have gone the way it did. Chloe stared at me long and hard, anger turning to understanding in her eyes. Her grip on the gun lightened up, and so did my grip on her wrist. I could see the conflict in Chloe’s face on whether to kill me or take a different course of action. Her decision came not too long after that when she admitted, “I know I’m nothing like my father. I recognize his mistakes aren’t mine, but at least I can do this myself.” Suddenly, she tried bringing the gun underneath her chin and killing herself, but I held her wrist back and covered the barrel of the gun with my other hand, groaning in pain as the bullet went through my right hand. Thank God I’m not right handed. She dropped the gun, ripping her wrist from my hand, and I held the gun up by the barrel with my now injured hand. I transferred the gun to my left hand, pointed it at her, and painstakingly grabbed my walkie with my bleeding hand. “Suspect is cornered, and I’m apprehending her now,” I gritted through my teeth. “Get on your knees with your hands behind your head now Chloe,” I commanded her, getting my handcuffs. She did as I said, and I hurried to put the handcuffs on her. Other officers rushed in as I tightened the other cuff, and they took her to the nearest police vehicle.

I remembered I had a hole in my hand that was bleeding and was excruciatingly painful, but I didn’t have any other cloths to wrap my hand in while I drove myself to the hospital. I took off my shirt and tied it tightly around my palm, the white fabric turning red. I walked out of the house shirtless in a crimson bra, which captured the attention of other officers. I went across the front yard to my car, directing everyone, “Don’t think about it! I have a girlfriend and you need to do your jobs!” I got in my car and drove one handed to the hospital, parking in the emergency room parking spaces. I went inside to find Stacie and Pieter sitting in the waiting room, Stacie crying and Pieter consoling her as much as he could. They saw me, first confused as to why I was shirtless, but then they saw my hand, which was now dripping blood because my shirt had reached its saturation point. I looked for the nearest nurse or doctor, and when I couldn’t find one, I walked straight to the reception desk and slammed my hand onto the counter. “If you wouldn’t mind, I just got shot in the hand and would greatly appreciate some medical attention right about now,” I stated sarcastically, biting the inside of my cheek to quell some of the pain in my hand. The receptionist took one look at my hand, and nearly jumped five feet when I removed the bloody fabric and showed her the hole in my hand that was still bleeding. She took me immediately to an emergency room, where a different nurse sewed up my hand and gave me morphine to dull the pain.

When she finished, I was free to go so I went to the waiting room with Stacie and Pieter. Stacie was the first to hug me, though I was still shirtless, and she said, “Thank God you’re alive!” I hugged her back, being careful not to put too much pressure on her stomach. She didn’t seem to care that was almost half naked but was more concerned with how I was feeling. Pieter, on the other hand, was a bit more conscious about it, so he just gave me an awkward high five. “Ja. I’m glad you’re alive and well,” he said smiling and putting his hands in his pockets. Then I remembered Maus was supposed to be here, and looked around the emergency room, not finding her. “Where’s Maus?” I asked, looking back and forth between the two. Pieter scratched the back of his neck, and looked to Stacie, saying, “Care to explain?” Stacie breathed out and took both my hands in hers, holding loosely to my injured hand as to not hurt me. She gazed into my eyes as she explained, “When the paramedics got her here, she was taken directly to surgery. She had a bullet lodged in her shoulder, and her collarbone was shattered. She lost a lot of blood, Luisa. They almost couldn’t save her. She would’ve been dead by the time they got her to the hospital if you hadn’t done what you had. You saved her. She’s in ICU now. They won’t let us see her, but they wanted to wait until a significant other or relative was here before anyone else was allowed to see her.”

I was crying by the time Stacie finished explaining as I thought of Maus nearly dying. Then Stacie’s words repeated in my head.  _ You saved her. _ She was alright. I saved her. I cried more at knowing she was alive because of me. Stacie pulled me back into a hug, and I sobbed into her shoulder. I lost track of time after that, but I was tapped on the shoulder eventually. I stood up from the crook of Stacie’s neck, wiping my eyes and cheeks to look presentable. It was a doctor. She introduced herself, “Hello. I’m Dr. Jessica Carver. Are you Luisa Meyer? Beca Mitchell’s girlfriend?” I nodded my head, unable to speak at the moment. Dr. Carver motioned for me to follow her, and she told me, “Alright. Beca is awake and well enough for visitors. Would you like me to show you her room?” I cleared my throat, and said, “Yes, of course.” I followed Dr. Carver down the hall to an elevator, which we rode up a few floors, and to a room in the middle of the hallway. She opened the door for me, and I stepped in to see Maus lying on a bed hooked up to several machines. She had her chest wrapped in Ace bandages, I assumed to help her collarbone heal, and her other arm was wrapped in gauze pads, which were obviously for the wound on her arm. She winced when she tried to move either of her arms, but she looked at me once before I was over to her, kissing her fiercely. I held her head still as I kissed her as many times as I could. I pulled away, looking into her eyes lovingly.

“Who are you?” she asked, giving me a questionable look. I felt everything in me shake, and I started to cry, removing my hands from her. She quickly grabbed my hand, laughed, and said, “I’m only kidding, Katze. I could never forget you.” I glared at her angrily, and I quickly breathed in and out to calm myself. “How do I put up with your bullshit anymore,” I admitted, pinching the bridge of my nose. She squeezed my hand the best she could, and teased, “Because you love me. And I love you too, so I tolerate your bullshit.” She was in a hospital, almost completely immobilized for the next month and a half, and she’s still making sassy comments. God, I loved it. I laughed, and told her, “That is true. You never cease to scold me for it.” We both laughed and kissed softly. We pulled away a few inches, and Maus asked, “What happened to your shirt? You were wearing one the last time I saw you.” I held up my hand that was wrapped in bandages, and explained, “I used it as temporary bandages for the bullet hole in my hand.” She winced a bit, saying, “Ouch. At least you can still carry me.” I kissed her again, and Stacie and Pieter walked in, Dr. Carver letting them in. Pieter walked up to me, and said, “I just got off the phone with Cole. He told me Chloe is in the holding cell, and sentencing is next week. You solved the case again, Sarge.”

********

Three months later, and I was stuck with another unsolvable case. Mine and Maus’s wounds and scars healed over nicely, but the six weeks after she was discharged from the hospital forced me to do almost everything for her, since one of her arms had to stay in place until her collarbone healed. She had a circular scar on her shoulder, and a long slash across her left arm. I developed a circular scar on my right hand from where the bullet went through and Maus often times liked to trace the scar when she was bored and I wasn’t doing anything of any significance. Not now. I was undercover as a prospective client for a sex trafficking ring we were investigating, and I was invited to a pool party to see if I liked any of the girls that were involved. Really, I was just trying to find who ran the whole thing and bust them on three counts of murder. I got help from Pieter, who posed as my advisor, and my fiancé Maus, who was the DJ at this event. We got her this gig on purpose, so she could help search the crowds from her elevated position at the party. I looked over to her and watched as she gave me the designated signal for when she found the guy that hired her. She drew a small circle on her her right palm, indicating she found him and that he’s armed.

I trod carefully through the crowds of people in my heels and bathing suit. It was a one piece that didn’t have any straps, and that exposed the top half of my back. Since I was armed, I wore a trench coat over my bathing suit to cover my concealed weapon. I got up to the DJ station, walked behind Beca, and heard her say, “2 o’clock. And heading toward a backroom with a woman.” I nodded my head, pulled my gun out, and, while keeping it hidden, followed the guy we were looking for. This was going to be a hell of an investigation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You thought someone was going to die, didn't you? Psyche!

**Author's Note:**

> I'll update as frequently as my creative mind (or circumstance) will let me. I know with these types of stories things can get pretty intense or chapters can leave off on cliffhangers, which is why I update as frequently as I do.


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